Nana

I thought I would re-post a piece about my maternal grandmother that I wrote clear back in August of 2006. She would have celebrated a birthday this Tuesday, October 23...only she was born an incredible 119 years ago...in 1888.
(Amazing, isn't it, that she is my maternal grandmother...and that her great-grandchildren are only 5 and 8!)
I'm adding a couple other photos of her when she was young from my aunt's website... I think, too often, when we're young and view very old people, we tend to think of their identity as "old" and forget that they were once young and vital people.


Some of you know that I have mentioned being a part of the The Sandwich Generation in which I told of how the women in my family have tended to have their children later in life. My mother's mother, whom I called "Nana", had other grandchildren before I came along, but by the time I entered the scene, she was very ancient, indeed. I know to children, all senior citizens can seem older than the hills but believe me...she truly was ancient!

I wish I could have known her...really known her. But as I entered grade school, not only had her body become feeble, but her mind, as well. Most of my memories of Nana consisted of my tagging along with my mom to visit her in the nursing home. The dreadful smell would assault me and the sights of some of the ailing residents were disturbing to my young, sensitive eyes. Sometimes, on a good day, Nana would would remember us...other times, she would talk in hazy riddles or ask us where her husband was.

(One of my favorite pictures of her age 22, in 1910.)

Even I knew she didn't mean my grandfather, but her first husband, who had died in an epidemic in the 19-teens. That was the man whom she really loved. She had a small son when her beloved passed away, but my spunky grandmother went to work and raised him the best she could..until she met someone else she was willing to marry. The story goes that she looked considerably young for her age and deceived her new beau into thinking she was much younger than her 37 years. (He was only 25). They had two daughters, the first whom was my mother.

And sadly, their marriage was marked with dissension and turmoil.

My grandmother was a Christian and a true lady- and she certainly did not believe in divorce...but divorce happened, nonetheless.

So now, she was a single mother again. And her son became a sort of surrogate father to her two girls. He was twelve years older then my mom and both she and her sister adored him. And my spunky grandmother survived.










My mother tells me that for such a tiny little woman, she could surprise people with just how feisty she could be- especially when it came to sticking up for right- or for the honor of her own loved ones. But in spite of this, she would sometimes cry when she became extremely angry...a trait, I might add, which has been passed down to her daughter- and to me!

There are so many stories about Nana...and I try to picture them all, even though the person I knew personally was only a shell of who she really had been.

(How I wish I had the story behind this photo! It was one I had never seen before until recently...what a riot! (And ideas, Mom?) But I'm gathering she was in a play...and it gives me even more of an idea of the kind of personality she was before I was able to meet her!)


Now, my own mother is approaching 80. And though there are times I know she wishes she was younger in order to enjoy her granddaughters in a more active way...I am still thankful she is alive and as healthy as she is- both physically and mentally. I'm happy that she can still read them stories and sprinkle them with gems of wisdom like only grandmas can. And that my daughters can witness, first-hand, the real person that she is, and enjoy her.

Nana passed away when I was 19. She had hung on until she finally was released from this earth and went home to be with the Lord at the age of 93.
And these days, I like to think of my grandmother not as the ancient, nursing home-ridden lady who only remembered her past but not her present... but as that young, feisty, warm-hearted woman that I know from family stories, who loved her children fiercely and saw so many changes throughout her life and century.

Because I think she'll be the person that I meet in heaven one day.

*Picture 1...as a young woman
*Picture 2...with her little boy, my dear Uncle Les
*Picture 3...Nana holds me as a baby

**Edited to add...be sure to check out some of the photo details...like the high-button shoes in the photo with her son (1920)...and the beautiful classic pink car behind my grandmother and me. (I'd think I'd love to have that car now!)