10 Years

Nana, with a twinkle in her eye

photo by me

It has been 10 years since Nana, my grandmother, died. I've written about her before, and I've been thinking about her a lot lately. With 500,000 people dead from COVID in the past year, death is close to many people.

I am glad I have not had to worry about Nana getting COVID. I am glad I have not had to fight to get her vaccinated. I am glad she did not have to see the callousness of the Trump Administration toward the sick and grieving.

But that does not mean I am glad she's not here.

I miss her so, so much. I miss talking with her about my day. I miss her undying support and belief in me.

I miss her teasing, her laughter, her smile. I miss hearing her talking on the phone with her friends.

Because she lived with us all of my life, I have so many more memories of her than I do of Daddy and Papaw.

Once, when I was still in high school, a friend of mine and I drove to a nearby town to go to Walmart. Nana was also in that town running errands, and she spotted us in Walmart. Her face was bright with excitement, and she almost ran to us.

"Guess what," she asked us.

"What?" we said.

"I was just in a car wreck," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Naturally, my friend and I were horrified.  "Are you hurt? What happened?"

"Oh, this woman hit the back of my car, and I spun in a circle through the intersection."  She moved her hand in a circular motion, still grinning.

Nana still watches over me

photo by Mom

"But you're okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine." Then, she looked at me and said, "Oh, Sara, that was fun."

That was Nana.  The kind of person who could be involved in a simple car accident where no one was hurt and see the positive.

When I hit a deer driving home at night that winter, she only wanted to know if I was okay. After I assured her that I was, and that the deer had even run off, seemingly unhurt, I said, "I don't think the car is damaged either."

"I don't care about the car, Sara. Cars can be replaced. You can't."

She could put things in perspective like no one else, and that has helped me deal with all the stress of the things she's missed over the last 10 years.

Also, after hitting that deer, she teased me about it. "If you see a deer limping around here, that's the one you hit." Her eyes danced when she said it.

That sense of humor has helped me deal with her loss, too.  But I still miss her.