When I was a child I don’t remember ever thinking about the people I loved being gone from my life, more specifically, I don’t recall being afraid of them dying. I was very fortunate to have breezed through my entire childhood without losing a loved one or having to attend a funeral, I wish I could the same for my own children. One of the people in my life that I believed would just always be there was my grandmother, my Nana. I was named after her, which is something that feels very special, creating a connection that means more to me than I could ever express in words. I’ve always tried my best to keep in contact with her, regardless of where we live or how crazy life gets. She has several children, a bunch of grandchildren, and a handful of great-grandchildren and everyone has their own lives, one who lives in her town while others live hundreds and thousands of miles away, as I’m sure is the case with many families.
Today is her birthday and I’ve been thinking a lot about those feelings I had as a young girl, or really, the feelings I didn’t have as a young girl. The ones where I didn’t see my Nana gone. Now, as she turns 83, I realize she is getting older. I’ve never liked the word old as it just sounds so negative and worn. When she gets ill I worry about her, when I hug and kiss her during the few times I see her during the year I find myself wondering if they might be out last to share. I don’t mean to sound morbid because that’s not at all what I’m feeling when I have those thoughts. They are a reminder to me that I must appreciate every bit of time that I get with my grandmother, whether it’s a visit in person or a conversation on the telephone. I make it a goal to call her at least once a week and I hope our chats mean as much to her as they do to me. Her age might make me more aware of the importance of our time together, but the reality is that age doesn’t mean a thing because we truly don’t know how much time we have with each other aside from the current moment we are currently in. I’ve been fortunate enough to share many amazing moments with my Nana over the course of my lifetime. She’s taught me so much with her wisdom, she’s tested my patience as I help her with computer and internet challenges (seriously, though, I’m hugely impressed she’s on a computer and knows her away around the internet. Mostly. ) , and she’s made me laugh with her many isms that I will carry with me in my heart long after she is gone. I called her on the phone today to wish her a Happy Birthday and mostly all I heard on the other end was coughing. She sounded awful and it nearly broke my heart to hear her so uncomfortable, especially on her birthay, but I could somehow still hear the joy in her voice that I had called. I know that she was probably expecting that phone call from me, I know she knew she could count on a phone call from me, and I’m honored to fulfill such a precious responsibility. Little does she realize, that phone call and many of the others I make to her, are purely selfish on my part. I need to hear her voice, I need to spend a few minutes talking to her so I can add to the memories I continue to store away for when we can’t talk anymore. After I hung up the phone I said a little wish that she feels better soon and that she can talk more than cough during out next phone call. I also think I should totally make cupcakes in her honor. What kind of granddaughter would I be if I didn’t celebrate her birthday with cupcakes? Even if she can’t have one, I know she would want me enjoy one. Or three.
Happy Birthday Nana! Love you Much. XOXO
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