But it wasn’t to be. The utmost cruelty of Covid was Nana passed into heaven without her family by her side. Ellie, her aide, stayed with her and I’m eternally grateful. But during the last few days and hours of Nana’s life, I couldn’t hold her hand. I couldn’t tell her how much she was loved. I couldn’t kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek and stroke her forehead. All I could do was wait for the phone call.
I hoped the pain would mute as the years passed without her. Some things have gotten better. I can say the words, “My mother died from Covid,” without breaking into a sob. I can see pictures of her and smile at her beautiful face without tears blurring my eyes every time. I can tell the stories of her life with more pride than sadness.
Although pictures of Nana evoke a flood of memories, I’m surprised when objects trigger sweet reminisces.
A blue LED flashlight: I reached into my nightstand for a flashlight and found the shiny blue LED light. Nana always took a flashlight to her bedside every night. Her old flashlight was a silver spiral and took 2 C batteries. I have no idea when it was new. As Nana aged and her arthritic fingers struggled to change batteries, I decided she needed a new flashlight. For Christmas one year, I gifted her a glittering royal blue LED flashlight with a small push button off/on switch. This flashlight was slim in her hand and the LED light was brilliant compared to the feeble yellowish glow of her old silver flashlight. I was so pleased with myself. But on my next trip to Nana’s apartment, I found the old silver flashlight parked on her nightstand and the new blue one nowhere in sight. When I asked her about why she wasn’t using her new flashlight, she said, “I’m just so used to my old one.” Case closed.
When I cleaned out Nana’s apartment after she moved into the nursing home, I found the shiny blue flashlight hidden away in a drawer. I took it home with me and now it reminds me of Nana and her love for her old silver flashlight.
Nana’s lavender nightgown: As I tucked away my summer shorts and dug for my winter pajamas, I found Nana’s lavender nightgown. When I was sorting Nana’s clothes for donation or discard, I came across this nightgown and I couldn’t let it go. I bought this and several others like it for her in several colors. But Nana looked especially beautiful in the lavender pin-tucked nightgown. I can see her sitting on the edge of her bed after I helped her get it on past her bad right shoulder. Her pure white hair accented the pale purple flowers. The soft folds draped over her tiny frame, and she looked frail and delicate. And so lovely.
Nana liked being ready for bed early, sometimes before 6pm. In her nightgown, she settled in for her nightly ritual of TV. Channel 16, 6 o’clock Local News, NBC World News with Lester Holt, Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Rarely did she watch TV after 8pm. During my visits, at 8pm we chatted, or she did her Word Find books or re-read her Williamsport Sun Gazette morning newspaper.
With the onset of winter and dark nights, I too often get my pajamas on early. And I smile as I think of Nana looking sweet in her cozy lavender nightgown.
Calendar sheets: As December arrives, it’s time to turn the sheet on the calendar. Nana loved her calendars. In her tiny one-bedroom apartment, she had multiple wall calendars and two small desk calendars. Every year, I bought her a Texas Wildflowers calendar she kept by her chair at her kitchen table. Texas flowers, especially Blue Bonnets, reminded her of her favorite time living as an Army wife in Austin, Texas in 1943 and 1944.
When I visited Nana at the beginning of a month, I helped her turn all the pages of the many calendars she treasured. If we talked on the phone at the beginning of a month, she would marvel at how fast the months seemed to go by. She said, “All I do is flip calendar sheets.”
Christmas 2019 I gave Nana a Texas Wildflowers calendar for her room in the nursing home. Together, we looked at every picture on every month at least four times. It’s one of my happiest memories with her.
December 6th, 2023. A date on a calendar. Instead of darkness, today I’m choosing the light of Nana’s memory. I’ll hold Nana close to my heart on this day and every day. Whether it’s a picture, a flashlight, a nightgown, or a calendar, Nana, my angel, is always with me.
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| Nana and Diane June 2019 |
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| Nana with Texas Calendar December 2019 |
