Daddy Days: A remembrance of Nana
The oldest person I ever knew passed away recently. Nana was 101 years young and, although not related to me, a grandmother figure for a majority of my life.
One hundred one “years young” sounds like a euphemism for old people, but as long I knew her Nana was always young for her age. When I was 14, I sang in the church choir with Nana. After the first practice she reached out and grabbed my arm in an iron grip and pulled me toward her saying I had a nice voice and she was glad I was in the choir. She was 80 at the time and nearly knocked me over. When Nana wanted you to know something she got your attention.
I didn’t call her Nana until I had kids. As soon as we had our first she introduced herself to him with, “‘I’m Nana” and so she has always been. And will always be.
At 17 I began dating my future wife and Nana approved. Nana approved so much she’d make me blush when she’d give us hugs and tell us she was so happy we were together, or just casually declare I better marry that girl.
A few years later, when we told her we were engaged, Nana beamed with joy and pride. I remember three things about this distinctly. 1) Nana was one of very few people who never said anything about how young we were to get married, 2) She said she always knew we would get married and 3) she said, in her inimitable way as she held onto both of us, “you know I claim you! You’re mine.”
And she did. She checked on us as newlyweds, as new parents, and as “old” parents. She invited the boys over, let them romp around her house, indulged in them “playing” the piano as babies and doled out candy in handfuls. Nana had a green thumb and a gorgeous patch of bluebonnets that came up in her backyard every spring and she would always invite us over to “have our picture made” in the bluebonnets.
I always liked that she said “picture made” instead of have your “picture taken.” Perhaps it was a reference to an outdated photographic process, but I like to think Nana was sharing a bit of wisdom about the memories those pictures created.
After a couple years of being married, when my wife mentioned something about me bringing her flowers and chocolate, Nana grabbed my arm with that iron grip and pulled me down to kiss my cheek and excitedly told me that was how a husband was supposed to do things and she was proud of me. You don’t forget that kind of thing.
At her funeral, I learned much about Nana that I didn’t know. Oh, there were references to her life of faith, her deep love for her family, and her care for those she knew that I was aware of, but she also lived a secret life of generosity, gratitude and in support of the church that I didn’t know.
It was a blessing to be claimed by Nana and also to see how much happiness and meaning she gave to others. It’s a comfort to know Nana was claimed by her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and is in heaven now where “true joys are to be found.”
Happiness is elusive and I’m sure Nana experienced that in her long life. Sadness seemed inescapable as her coffin was loaded into the hearse and the bell in the church steeple tolled its solemn tone.
I never knew Nana to focus on the sad though. I think it’s because she knew happiness is fleeting, and she looked to bring it where she could. And she brought much.
After all, a birthday cake with 101 candles can shed a lot of light.
Rest In Peace, Nana.
Harris and his wife live in Pflugerville with their six sons. Please email comments or suggestions for future columns to thoughtsforcaleb@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Austin American-Statesman: Daddy Days: A remembrance of Nana
