My biggest fear coming on the Race was that something would happen to one of my family members while I was gone. And… this fear came true this month. On July 5, my grandmother (my mom’s mom) passed away. As I began writing this blog about her, it turned into a letter. So Nana, this one is for you. I love you.
Dear Nana,
I miss you so much. I miss the good old days, when Christopher and I were little and would come visit you and Papa every summer. I miss our trips to the mountains and the times we spent holidays with y’all. I miss playing marbles, watching movies, and sitting in the library watching you organize books. I miss going to eat at Chili’s, getting slurpees from 7-11 or ice cream from Dairy Queen, and listening to you and Aunt Hilda fight over who would get to pay the bill.
I took those times for granted, and for that I’m sorry. I wish I had appreciated my time with you more. When I was little, I had no understanding that you wouldn’t be here forever. However, as I got older, I saw the toll that age was taking on you and Papa both. There were so many health issues, so much medicine. I HATED dementia for what it did to Papa – it made him a completely different person. But I admired the grace and love you showed him all the way to the end. I was relieved when he died because it meant he was finally free. But I saw that when Papa died, a piece of you did too. When Aunt Hilda died the next year, I thought we were going to lose you to a broken heart. She always cheered you up and made us all laugh with her antics. I didn’t know how you’d be able to go on without your partner-in-crime. But you did, and we were able to enjoy being with you for the next few years.
I noticed when your memory started getting worse. And I’m so sorry that I would get annoyed when you’d ask me the same question over and over again. I would give anything just to be able to have those moments with you back. I’m sorry that life got in the way, and we didn’t make it down to see you for several years. When we came to visit you before I launched on the Race, I was shocked at how much you had changed. Dementia had set in pretty bad, and you looked so sad, lonely, and terrified – you begged us to help you and to save you. It broke my heart. When we left that day, I knew that would be the last time I’d see you.
I thought I would feel the same relief when you died that I felt for Papa because you’d be free. And I do to an extent, but I also feel so homesick and nostalgic for my childhood memories of you. It’s so hard to imagine going to Florida to visit family, and you not being there. Your house, where I have so many memories, won’t be yours anymore. No more trips to Chili’s, Dairy Queen, or 7-11. Now more than ever, I treasure all of our traditions, the lessons I learned from you, and most of all, I treasure our memories.
God gave me such a precious gift around the time you passed away – He showed me your arrival into Heaven. You looked more beautiful than I’ve ever seen, and you were young and so full of life again. The joy, awe, and amazement on your face gave me such peace and comfort. Angels surrounded you as Jesus welcomed you with open arms, and a party started in order to celebrate your arrival home.
How can I wish for you to be back here after that? I feel so selfish for wanting you back, but I do. I learned so much from your gentle spirit, kind heart, elegant poise, and most of all your loving patience. I just want more time with you. But I have peace in knowing that you’re dancing with Jesus in Heaven, completely free and reunited with Papa, Aunt Hilda, and other friends and family.
Nana, I love you so much. I miss you a whole lot, but I look forward to the day I’ll see you again. Until that day comes, keep Papa and Aunt Hilda out of trouble up there!
Love, Katie
