Special. Is for you.

It almost makes me wonder if you knew...
I am just so tempted to think you did...
Your perfect sense of joy on Christmas,
your delicious "last meal"
the way you shook hands and said your
goodbyes to all of those folks at the
restaurant of your last meal...

Did you?

Did you know?

Did you know God?

And if so, can I?

The line never stopped tonight
and
there were people standing and
laughing
and
crying
and
remarking in amazement
at all that you were
for to so many...
for hours....

endless

How did this happen?

How have you and Grampie
been able to live such long
healthy
fulfilling
and connected lives together
to garner
such a remarkable
tribute?

I don't know how,
you simply did.

And yet my internal
peace about your passing
is marred by a deep sorrow
for I loved you so much

You were so pure
even in that casket,
simply beautiful.

And I have never stared
so long at a body that
no longer held life.
I have never so much
wanted to not just look,
but to reach out and touch
a person laying in their
coffin.
Hold your hand,
play with your bracelet,
complete with your
grandchildren's names
to give you a squeeze,
and to fiddle with
and admire your pin on
your collar: an angel.

I cried instead,
and said good bye
and told myself:
YOU are the angel
now, for what lies
before me is merely
flesh.

You were not in
those clothes,
nor donning that jewelery
nor carrying that
make-upped skin

No,
you were all around us...
tinkled pink
at the turnout
and modest about
all the fuss,
all at the same time

In some ways,
I feel a deep sense of
comfort in your passing

For now, I don't have to
trek somewhere to see you
and feel your warm presence

Now, I know I can have that
whenever I want,
every day.

You will always be with me.

Thank you Nanie
for
teaching me
what special
really means.

Always.

RIP Nanie

Nanie,

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.