I always wondered what the day would look like when you would pass away...
To me Nanie... you were immortal. Never aging, as those even younger than you passed on, you just kept moving through life with your silly grin and hysterical laugh. You always looked the same age to me.You had style even at 90, and like me were so satisfied to find your style on sale...remember when Asa and I bumped into you and Grampie at Savers not too long ago and we showed each other our "scores"? So fun! You tickled Asa's feet in the shopping cart and were thrilled when he was enamored by you. We all were. I also remember being little and you would take care of us when Mom and Dad went on a rare getaway. You needed help with the remote control which we reluctantly gave you, reluctant because this meant watching your
"programs". But alas, I will never again watch Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy without thinking of you, happily curled up in my dad's recliner knitting quietly and shouting things at the TV, proud of your own smarts. And you were fun on those vacations too, driving us to our activities way too slow. You made the rides even slower by going down hills and removing your foot from the gas pedal and trying to see if we could simply "coast" the whole way home...we never did. But it was fun trying. I remember when we bought our house finding out, after the fact, that you had actually lived IN MY house as a child, and mentioned it to me as an aside. I was incredulous at the coincidence, and asked how old you were when you lived here...You just said, "Sometime around middle school for a few years, hard to recall exactly." You only remembered your friends from the neighborhood, not too much about the house. Amazing. I will always feel your presence in this home...I remember too the hilarious story I was told about the day that Remy was born. A group of you were driving home from Jud and Trish's baby shower together, while I was back home in labor, and trying to decode a clue that I gave about the name of the baby...four letters, none repeating. You shouted "Elmo! NEMO!" in all seriousness...sure that one of them just must be right. You were so silly...Yet, so dignified and proud as well. You and Grampie renewing your vows at the library this past spring after 70 years of marriage was truly remarkable and I cried witnessing such commitment. You are and always will be strength personified. You had ins and outs in the hospital over the years, and yet fought through each challenge put before you. You were going to go on your terms. And you certainly have...peacefully in your home, with your loving husband at your side. Seeing you on Symmes family Christmas this year, not even two weeks ago, you were so *truly* happy and that is what I will always hold dear to my hear as the ultimate gift. The best gift you could have given each of us before leaving us...Your tendency toward the winter blues, sometimes made you teary and sad on this special event, but not this year. No, this year you radiated joy and magnificence. You acted as though the family photo I gave you was a genuine treasure and you laughed countless times as my maniac toddler bounded up and down the stairs. You were perfect....just like this clear, sunny winter day. Perfect....I should have known you'd pick a gem of a day to go. I should have expected nothing less, really. And now, as our large family gathers in sorrow to remember you, we are just so full of gratitude for all you have given us. Life, of course. But so much more. The gift of family, the gift of togetherness, the gift of grace and dignity. You taught us to give love and to be
love. We will all miss you more than you will ever know. Rest in peace, sweet sweet Nanie.