Nana Dee
Fair warning: This blog entry is almost entirely for me. Please, feel free to read, but realize upfront that it's somewhat self-indulgent.
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My god. Two years.
Two years since my grandmother died.
And, yeah, I know - we all write about our dead grandmothers. But... I dunno. I don't think anyone shaped my life the way she did. She taught me what it was all about. Nothing moves me the way her memory does. It gives me strength, and it cuts me to the quick. Like life, I guess.
It's taken me this long to look back at the eulogy I gave for her. But now its time.
So here it is.
-----
I kinda feel that I didn't have the opportunity to meet Delores Dayton until she was about 2/3 of the way through her life. And that's the closest you'll get to me telling you how old she actually was. Strict orders, you know. The woman in that photo, I never got to know. Which is a shame. But I heard stories - oh yes. And I'd love to hear many more.
I heard stories about her devotion to her husband and children. And I saw that borne out in her love for her grandchildren. I heard stories of how she worked part time as a school secretary while finishing school early in order to help support her fatherless family. I heard stories of how she shepherded a family of her pregnant self and two children though WWII while her husband was away fighting, living in two rooms, sharing a house with other families, giving birth while he was away, defending our country. I've heard stories of how she was romanced by the famous, and had the will to walk away because it wasn't right.
And I have stories to tell. I have stories to tell of when I was a baby, and she slept beside my crib because I was ill, and she would not be persuaded to a bed. Of how, when I was a child, sleeping over at Nana Dee's was one of the most exciting things in the world, because we would watch baseball, eat ice cream, and she would drag the mattress into the living room so we could sleep in the same room. And I never minded (too much) that the clock ticked so loud that I couldn't sleep. I have stories to tell of when I was a young adult and my life and marriage fell apart - my Nana Dee was there for me - and when I made questionable decisions, she tried to understand and would never judge - even when all around me were. I have stories to tell of how every ex-girlfriend I have (and no smart comments about the increasing number of those, please) is quick to ask after Nana Dee whenever I speak to them - even if it is years later. This is a woman who made an impression.
What you need to understand is that you are these stories. I see Nana in each of you. I see her in my Aunt Joyce's compassion, my Uncle Dan's patience, my mother's love and understanding. I see her in my cousin Brad's professionalism, Jon's cleverness, Lori's enjoyment of life, Lisa's love of her family, and my brother Dan's intense drive to succeed. And finally and sadly, somewhat backwards, I realize that what my uncle Larry most had from her was bravery, especially bravery in the face of death.
So please, share your stories. Share yourselves. Nana Dee - a woman I will always be quick to name as one of the most influential in my life - has influenced each and every one of you - otherwise you wouldn't be here. Tell those stories - to each other, to strangers, and most of all, to your children.
Because the woman I knew as Nana Dee may be dead - but as long as those stories are told - she never will be, never can be, gone.
----
And now I'm crying. Nothing in this world can make me cry like thinking of her. Nothing.
And while I have no understanding of "The Life After" - I do know that if there is any part of her that can know what I am thinking, I want that part to know that I will never regret anything more in my life than not coming home a day or two sooner. Never.
I just wish I had known she was asking for me.
-------------------
My god. Two years.
Two years since my grandmother died.
And, yeah, I know - we all write about our dead grandmothers. But... I dunno. I don't think anyone shaped my life the way she did. She taught me what it was all about. Nothing moves me the way her memory does. It gives me strength, and it cuts me to the quick. Like life, I guess.
It's taken me this long to look back at the eulogy I gave for her. But now its time.
So here it is.
-----
I kinda feel that I didn't have the opportunity to meet Delores Dayton until she was about 2/3 of the way through her life. And that's the closest you'll get to me telling you how old she actually was. Strict orders, you know. The woman in that photo, I never got to know. Which is a shame. But I heard stories - oh yes. And I'd love to hear many more.
I heard stories about her devotion to her husband and children. And I saw that borne out in her love for her grandchildren. I heard stories of how she worked part time as a school secretary while finishing school early in order to help support her fatherless family. I heard stories of how she shepherded a family of her pregnant self and two children though WWII while her husband was away fighting, living in two rooms, sharing a house with other families, giving birth while he was away, defending our country. I've heard stories of how she was romanced by the famous, and had the will to walk away because it wasn't right.
And I have stories to tell. I have stories to tell of when I was a baby, and she slept beside my crib because I was ill, and she would not be persuaded to a bed. Of how, when I was a child, sleeping over at Nana Dee's was one of the most exciting things in the world, because we would watch baseball, eat ice cream, and she would drag the mattress into the living room so we could sleep in the same room. And I never minded (too much) that the clock ticked so loud that I couldn't sleep. I have stories to tell of when I was a young adult and my life and marriage fell apart - my Nana Dee was there for me - and when I made questionable decisions, she tried to understand and would never judge - even when all around me were. I have stories to tell of how every ex-girlfriend I have (and no smart comments about the increasing number of those, please) is quick to ask after Nana Dee whenever I speak to them - even if it is years later. This is a woman who made an impression.
What you need to understand is that you are these stories. I see Nana in each of you. I see her in my Aunt Joyce's compassion, my Uncle Dan's patience, my mother's love and understanding. I see her in my cousin Brad's professionalism, Jon's cleverness, Lori's enjoyment of life, Lisa's love of her family, and my brother Dan's intense drive to succeed. And finally and sadly, somewhat backwards, I realize that what my uncle Larry most had from her was bravery, especially bravery in the face of death.
So please, share your stories. Share yourselves. Nana Dee - a woman I will always be quick to name as one of the most influential in my life - has influenced each and every one of you - otherwise you wouldn't be here. Tell those stories - to each other, to strangers, and most of all, to your children.
Because the woman I knew as Nana Dee may be dead - but as long as those stories are told - she never will be, never can be, gone.
----
And now I'm crying. Nothing in this world can make me cry like thinking of her. Nothing.
And while I have no understanding of "The Life After" - I do know that if there is any part of her that can know what I am thinking, I want that part to know that I will never regret anything more in my life than not coming home a day or two sooner. Never.
I just wish I had known she was asking for me.
posted by Brian at 11:01 PM
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