For most of us, the idea that family is the most important thing in the world is ingrained in us from the earliest years of our childhood. The saying "friends come and go, but family is forever" is a chorus repeated to us during every dramatic episode of childhood friendship issues. We rely on our families like we do no one else.
The basic family members that most everyone has are the mother, the father, and perhaps a sibling or two. Some of us have varying numbers of aunts and uncles, and the luckiest of us get to have grandparents. But it is only the really lucky ones that get to have great-grandparents, and even luckier are the ones who get to grow up with them.
I am one such person.
When I was born, I had five living great-grandparents. Four were on my mom's side: her father's parents and her mother's dad were all still alive, as was her father's stepmother, to whom we were all extremely close. I have varying levels of memories of all of them, because they all died when I was relatively young, and my closeness to most of them was fairly limited. But the case with my fifth great-grandparent was completely different.
My nana is my dad's grandmother, and has undoubtedly been one of the most important people in my life from the day I was born. She and my papa raised their son, my grandfather, and then eventually went on to care for his children, my father and aunt, from their adolescence onward. According to my dad, the death of her husband and my father's moving out and marrying sent her into a bit of a funk, but she was revitalized when my parents told her that I was soon to be.
Nana, with the help of my beloved aunt, cared for me and my sister every single weekday while my parents worked. Through my parents' separation she continued to help my mother out with us in any way that she could; it was her great joy in life. She picked us up from school, made us snacks and dinner, and let us watch our favorite shows. In addition to that, she came to all our tee ball and soccer games, our school music programs, and to our weekly school Masses whenever we were selected to do a reading. She never missed a thing.
As I grew older, I realized what a tough and hilarious woman my nana was. This is a woman who, along with her daughter-in-law, was banned from a department store because she moved as if she was going to throw a pair of shoes at a sales associate with whom she was having a disagreement. Out of frustration from her family's backseat driving on a cross-country road trip, she pulled into a random stranger's driveway and threw bags of McDonald's food out the window. Well into her seventies or early eighties, she informed a telemarketer that she couldn't speak with him because we were all in the middle of an orgy, leaving my aunt and me with our mouths hanging open. My nana was a force to be reckoned with, a woman with a spirit unmatched by anyone I had ever met or have yet to meet.
As time wore on and my sister and I became older and more independent, we saw my nana less and less. I believe that as we needed her less, she lost a lot of her purpose in life, and her age gradually began to show. It's only been in the past few years, though, that her memory has begun to fade quite alarmingly. Still, her physical health was pretty good until this past summer.
She had gradually been becoming weaker and weaker, but early in the summer she took a fall that resulted in a broken vertebrae, causing her a great deal of pain and costing her a lot of her independence. Then, only a week later, she fell unconscious and could not be woken up. A weeklong hospital stay revealed a large amount of health problems that had to be tackled one by one.
My mother, sister, and I arrived at the hospital to meet our aunt within a half hour of my nana's arrival there, and we were there for over six hours. At least one of us continued to visit my nana every single day, as anybody would do. It became increasingly difficult for me as I watched her spirit break more and more. That week was the first time I had ever seen my nana so weak. It was the first time I ever heard her say, "I'm scared." It was the first time she ever looked like an old woman.
I can't remember the number of nights that I stayed up with my mother, talking to her about everything and crying my eyes out. Together, we realized that this was the first time I had gone through something of this magnitude as an adult. I remember clearly sitting at the bar in the kitchen with my mom at one or two in the morning, my mom telling me the story of the night she said goodbye to her granny, her father's stepmom.
"I remember driving away from there and knowing it was the last time I'd ever see my granny," my mother told me. And then, in a barely audible broken voice, "I remember on the drive home it was so quiet...the way it is after it snows. You know?" Tears ran down both our faces as we thought of Granny and Nana, and most of all, the bittersweetness of it all.
Most people do have some great-grandparents still alive when they are born, but very few of us reach adulthood and still have them. Even fewer have the relationship with their great-grandparents that I had with my nana. She was a constant presence in my life, not just someone who sent a birthday card every year. She took great interest in my sister and I, and she never let a day go by without telling us how much she loved us.
I learned so much from my nana. Anyone who has grandparents and great-grandparents knows how fantastic the stories that they have are, and my nana had so many. My nana lived through things that I only read about: the Great Depression, World War II, the scandal of the "Gone With the Wind" film, and the popularity of Marilyn Monroe. Her storytelling ability and dry sense of humor never ceased to amaze me; I'd like to think that I've inherited some of both.
Though I have begun the process of grieving my nana and feel a great deal of sadness in thinking about her or seeing her, I am struck every day by what a blessing it is, from God, from the universe, what have you, that I have gotten to have her as long as I have. I sometimes feel sad for my four-year-old half sister, who will never know the Nana that my other sister and I have known. I hope that everyone who has the pleasure of knowing their great-grandparents is aware what a special and beautiful thing it is, and knows to never, ever take them for granted.
My nana is doing better now, and is being taken care of by my aunt and some medical personnel from a home health organization. I don't know how long she has left, but I know that the memories we've made and the time we've shared together have made an impact on me that will never fade. I can only hope that others who've experienced the love of a great-grandparent the way that I have realize how lucky they are.
My nana will never read this article, and if someone reads it to her, she won't remember, but I have to say this to her: thank you, Nana.
I will always be your precious doll.
