Nana
Okay, this is the second time this has happened to me today, and I'm getting increasingly upset about it to the point that I need to say something somewhere:
This past Thursday, Brother called to tell me that his grandmother passed away.
He'd called two weeks earlier to let me know that she was getting close, and she'd been sick for a long time. She was actually diagnosed with cancer last year, and given four months to live. Every holiday and birthday was supposedly 'her last with the family'. She lived a year longer than everyone expected, and she had a good, happy life. She was ready to go.
She wasn't my grandmother. I'm not adopted; I'm a 'friend of the family', who lived with her son and daughter-in-law off and on for roughly four years total, because her grandson is a friend who wanted to help me out. I'm not related, don't intend to marry into the family.
But I still called her Nana, because that's what everyone called her and her daughter-in-law told me was fine to use when I awkwardly hesitated on her name. I visited with her on family gatherings, chatted with her about how she was doing and how things were going for me. She showed off her latest crafting project while I was there, always with a smile. She fussed at me to find a seat whenever I tried to stand because it was crowded and there were a limited amount of chairs. She always smiled at me warmly, gave me a hug when I got there and a hug goodbye.
For Christmas last year, she spent a great deal of time hunting down everyone's presents individually. Mine was a pendant set: a silver medallion with my initial spelled out in crystals, and matching earrings. She spelled my name wrong on the box, but I didn't care.
Because with everything going on in her life, she took the time to find me a present. Because she remembered my love of jewelry. Because I'm her grandson's friend, and she took the time to remember my name. Because she wrote 'With Love, Chet and Bev' on the box.
It's the best present I've ever gotten.
Because I have something I can hold in my hands, that will remind me of her forever.
She wasn't my grandmother, but I miss her. I miss her smiles and her hugs and her AMAZING strawberry-rhubarb pie. I miss the warmth she brought to a room, and the way she always, always made me feel welcome and loved.
I miss her.
But she wasn't mine.
And invalidating my feelings of sorrow? THIS IS NOT OKAY. When I say 'I'm not okay', you don't stare at me in confusion and ask me why. When I say 'this person passed away recently and I'm sad about it' in an e-mail, you don't get to read over and ignore it. You DO NOT get to tell me who I am allowed to mourn.
Because she was still Nana to me, and I miss her. And I'm allowed to cry.
This past Thursday, Brother called to tell me that his grandmother passed away.
He'd called two weeks earlier to let me know that she was getting close, and she'd been sick for a long time. She was actually diagnosed with cancer last year, and given four months to live. Every holiday and birthday was supposedly 'her last with the family'. She lived a year longer than everyone expected, and she had a good, happy life. She was ready to go.
She wasn't my grandmother. I'm not adopted; I'm a 'friend of the family', who lived with her son and daughter-in-law off and on for roughly four years total, because her grandson is a friend who wanted to help me out. I'm not related, don't intend to marry into the family.
But I still called her Nana, because that's what everyone called her and her daughter-in-law told me was fine to use when I awkwardly hesitated on her name. I visited with her on family gatherings, chatted with her about how she was doing and how things were going for me. She showed off her latest crafting project while I was there, always with a smile. She fussed at me to find a seat whenever I tried to stand because it was crowded and there were a limited amount of chairs. She always smiled at me warmly, gave me a hug when I got there and a hug goodbye.
For Christmas last year, she spent a great deal of time hunting down everyone's presents individually. Mine was a pendant set: a silver medallion with my initial spelled out in crystals, and matching earrings. She spelled my name wrong on the box, but I didn't care.
Because with everything going on in her life, she took the time to find me a present. Because she remembered my love of jewelry. Because I'm her grandson's friend, and she took the time to remember my name. Because she wrote 'With Love, Chet and Bev' on the box.
It's the best present I've ever gotten.
Because I have something I can hold in my hands, that will remind me of her forever.
She wasn't my grandmother, but I miss her. I miss her smiles and her hugs and her AMAZING strawberry-rhubarb pie. I miss the warmth she brought to a room, and the way she always, always made me feel welcome and loved.
I miss her.
But she wasn't mine.
And invalidating my feelings of sorrow? THIS IS NOT OKAY. When I say 'I'm not okay', you don't stare at me in confusion and ask me why. When I say 'this person passed away recently and I'm sad about it' in an e-mail, you don't get to read over and ignore it. You DO NOT get to tell me who I am allowed to mourn.
Because she was still Nana to me, and I miss her. And I'm allowed to cry.