Nana

There are many words I can use to describe how I have been feeling over the last few days - pain, fear, loneliness, anger, and sadness are just a few ways I am feeling, and I am sure some of you feel the same way. But, when I am at the lowest point, when I can feel the ache in my chest growing stronger and stronger, I focus on last Thursday and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I will forever remember the peace that was in the room as nana held my hand. In her last days she would pull herself up to hug someone or because she wanted to be held. A few times, it was hard to tell what she wanted and I would put my forehead against hers and look into her eyes and she would do the same but with such intensity that it would take my breath away. I'd say to her softly, "I love you, too, Nana," and she would lay back down. Never letting go of my hand, I thought because she wanted to hold it, but now I know it was because she knew I would need those moments long after she left this earth. 

  

There was a moment that I coughed, and I must have startled her because she tried to sit up so I helped her.  I was very nervous because there was no one in the room and I was terrified I wouldn't be able to hold her up. She looked at me.  I said, "Hi. It's Autumn. You're okay," and Nana relaxed a bit. I looked her in the eyes and I told her that she could rest.  That she loved us hard, fiercely, and deeply. That she could relax now, she deserved it. Nana leaned forward and I held her, or she held me.  I talked with her about Lennon and about how sassy he is, about the new baby that was arriving any minute. I told her she could go find her mom and her beloved Billy if she wanted to. I thanked her for being so wonderful to all of us. She laid back down.  

I examined her hand holding mine, trying to memorize every part. I just couldn't get gratitude out of my head. How lucky I am to have this woman love me for so long. How lucky I am to be able to say goodbye and tell her I love her a million times before she found peace.  How lucky I am to have had my grandmother here with me for 31 years, to fight for me, to believe in me, to make me laugh, and to love me. How lucky I am to love this much. To feel such a heartache  It is a love that I feel undeserving of, that I am humbled by, that I will never know again.  I ache. 

I have never known a pain like this before, even when I thought I did. When pain was so unbearable I thought I'd be sick. But this is a whole new, unfamiliar pain. Waves of numbness and emptiness, followed by absolute heartbreak that feels like it may drive right through my chest. 

I try to find peace in the fact that she is now free, wherever she is. I just had a whiff of her lotion come through my room, as I am writing this through tears (probably telling me it will be all right) so maybe she is here.  I am thankful for her peace because she was not in the body she wanted to be in and she was not in the mind she wanted to be in.  She was a prisoner in her own body, and I know that feeling. That is a horrible feeling. Like a ballerina trapped in chains, she wanted out. 

I tried to prepare myself for this in the last year. I hoped that her battle would end and she would be at peace and be free. But then I got the phone call that it was almost over and I never needed to stop time so badly.  The ache in my soul when I think I won't see her smile or have her ask if Lennon is my baby is surreal. I honestly never imagined I could ache so much. I feel little, vulnerable, and, I think, broken. 

I was a preferred customer at Nana's bar. I'd sit with her and play Wheel of Fortune, she would usually beat me because she was a ridiculously good speller and quick thinker, at least to me. Thursday night we were able to watch the Wheel one last time. I don't know if I will ever be able to watch it again, but I am thankful we had that moment. 

  At one point I thought that Nana might want to pray. I didn't know her as a very religious person, but she had a whole life on this earth before I came around. I asked my mom if she thought nana wanted to pray. My mother said that Nana got upset when the priest was in praying (her last rites.) I was holding nana at this time and I just thought that maybe she was upset because she didn't get to see any of her family by that time. So I prayed with her. I prayed the best way that a good juju, positive vibes, give to the universe and it will give to you, peace lovin', hippie of a granddaughter could... I repeated Our Father twice and felt her relax again.  Gratitude.

My nana gave me advice over the years. One that I am sure I have mentioned before is her famous, "someone always has it worse than you, A2." I am trying to keep that in my head these last few days. Someone does have it worse. Someone doesn't have a family. Someone didn't know any of their grandparents.  Someone wasn't able to say goodbye to a loved one. I know all of this. It still hurts.  

Looking back I am not sure that Nana dealt with sadness much differently than me. When our dog, Penney,  died, she told me that she didn't want to talk about it.  Eventually she did, when she was ready. As I am sure many of my dear friends have realized by now, that is how I am. I need to be silent. To be still and embrace the pain.  To process it and live it. I will come around. I will return to my Jedi text master  status, eventually. Right now though, I don't want to talk. I want to replay memories over and over so I don't forget the sound of her voice or the depth of her eyes. But I do appreciate your messages and the food you have all been sending. You are good people and Nana loved you. Gratitude. 

May angels lead you in, my Nana.