Centennial

sometimes when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated.
- lamartine

My family has suffered far too many losses in recent years. It is often very hard to swallow the world without the ones I love close by, none more so than my Grandmother.

Nana was the harbor that we all sailed toward. She was the force, and quite a force it was, that instilled a sense of belonging,commanded attention and kept the string of connection tied tightly to her.

It will be four years this coming April that we lost her. At 96 you should be accepting and grateful for such an amazing lifetime. It will tell you a great deal about her presence to say that anyone who knew her was thrown by her loss. None of us could really imagine that there would be a time when she would not be here to direct us all. Without her we have been cast adrift. There is no longer a center point, a guiding light, a command post. She captained all of our lives and planted an NPS in me (Nana Positioning System) that makes me stop and ask WWNS-What would Nana Say? I know she would have a lot to say!

This month would have been her 100th birthday and she would have expected a party! She always got a party!

What follows are excerpts from the words I wrote when we lost her. I hope they are as they were meant to be, a celebration of my Nana, a woman whose voice and strength and determination I carry with me each day of my life.

My grandmother could move mountains, change the weather, run a country and make sure everyone ate in the process. You did not say NO to her, and even if you tried she magically used her powers to turn NO into a YES. We all learned to do it Nana’s way – after all she was never wrong. During the recent Presidential election(2004) she was determined that everything that could be done get done to change the direction of the country. So she wrote to President Clinton, telling him she understood that he was recovering from heart surgery but that he needed to become more involved in the campaign . “Do you think he will listen to me?” she asked me – “Of course Nana – don’t we all!”

Her expectations for all of us were high. Not so much that we would become President, or film stars, though that would have made great card table conversation, but that we do everyday life the right way – Nana’s way. Of course we all fell short. I, for example, rebelled as much as possible, but in small annoying details just to exasperate her. Did you know there is a correct way to fold sheets? This would be Nana’s way to fold sheets. Over the years I have given in on the folding of towels – each side meets the center – but on symmetrically folded sheets, pressed of course, I have drawn the line. Whether it be folding sheets, setting a table, decorating a room, making a jello mold, coordinating an outfit, cutting a fruit plate, baking just about anything, or living with a man for over 60 years – there is and always will be only one way – Nana’s way.

We were her life’s work. She was born into a driven achieving family and in her day women did not necessarily excel openly in the world. Yes, she could run a country, lead an army and certainly build a better mousetrap, but she was living in Barton Vt. Without an outlet she channeled all that energy, determination and strong will into her home and her family. Her brothers ran a company, she ran us!

Whatever she put that busy mind to she naturally did correctly and did well – at least that was what she told us and we know she was always right. She did not just have children, she had girls who stopped traffic with their beauty and brains. You never tasted anything like her…you fill in the blank. I have a theory by the way about her baking. Although she shared her recipes I think she always withheld one key ingredient so that no one else’s would taste like hers did. Thousands of pound of poppy seed have gone out with the trash in my efforts to duplicate her Mun Cookies. She would simply smile and tell me that it was very tricky dough to work with – I know there is a missing portion to my copy of the recipe!

The key ingredient in all of us, however, was always shared – her love, unflinching, unwavering, demanding, expecting, unlimited love. If we did not always meet her standards, or do it just her way, she would actually pout. It was because she believed so much in us, and invested so much of herself in us and loved us so much that of course we would be the best – always. She could criticize us but heaven help you if you criticized anyone she loved to her face – she simply would not allow it. So, flawed as each of us may be we are the product of her life’s work – thank goodness.

Family was first, and feeding that family was her vocation. Her dining room table was where all came. She fed everyone, in from out of town come to supper. Her answer at all points of life, good and bad, was to be found in her kitchen. For many years of my life I only saw her in the kitchen or at a MaJohng table. My grandfather took me ice skating, but my grandmother and I went to the butcher. Holidays were hers. At Thanksgiving my grandfather would exclaim as he placed another leaf in the table – “your grandmother has turned over Plymouth Rock and found a few more pilgrims!”

My grandfather was the love of her life, and rightly so. She claimed to have molded him over time –I know he let her, he, like all of us, let her have her way. Maybe it was easier that way for him as well, but we all know she was the center of his life and that was a love story that lasted for over 60 years.

Yes, her expectations for everyone were high, but I have learned in recent months that our expectations of her were high as well. Anyone who has witnessed many of us, particularly her granddaughters, in the past few months can attest to that. In December Nana celebrated in 96th birthday. I promise you that those who did not know she was ill will be shocked at her loss. Strange for someone 96, but no one who knew her, and certainly no one who loved her, ever thought of her as old. The doctors would look at me cross eyed when I questioned them about her progress – as if to say she is 96, let her be, what more do you want?

96 was just a number – there was nothing average about Nana and she did not do her 90s in an average way. Average may get you decent scrabble points but that would be it. She had determination and a will of iron, never wrong and stubborn til she won, and win she did. We just expected that our very small package of hurricane force power to continue to point her finger and show us the right way forever. Somehow I know she will.

Once in an English essay class I was asked to write about someone I admired – I wrote about my grandmother, not because she ever built that better mousetrap but because hers was a life that could be defined as truly successful. She was adored, and she got back every ounce and then some of that unconditional love that she dished out on her impeccably set table, with the good dishes and silver, on the perfectly pressed organdy tablecloth.
I have thought a lot over the past months about how I will do everyday without her. She won’t be here to tell me to dress warmly, to get home before dark; she won’t be here to call at 10:00 at night to watch a movie over the phone with; She won’t be here to buy cute outfits for; She won’t be here to redecorate everyone’s homes with; She won’t be here to put down seven letter words on a triple with the q the z and the x; She won’t be here to run menus past; She won’t be here to go shopping with; She won’t be here. She was my harshest critic, my instructor, my source of knowledge of very important things, my debate partner, my dictionary, my place to go when I needed to know I was loved, my barometer of doing it right. She was my best friend. She had a string that led from her hear to mine. I know now that string will not break – I will never lose her, she will always tug at that string and whisper in my ear – “you don’t want to do it that way, let me tell you how it should be done!”


Some people care too much, I think it's called love.
-- Winnie the Pooh