Goodbye.

Almost a week later, and I still don't think it's fully hit me: my grandmother (on my paternal side) is dead. Nana, of Nana and Boompah (gone 16 years now), is gone. It strikes me at odd points. I'll be playing cards online and think of her teaching me to play gin and poker as a child or have a mint and think of the gum she'd chew to cover up the occasional smoker's breath. I remember the little case that she carried her toiletries in when she'd come to visit: one of those old 60's-era Samsonites with a rounded rectangular shape and a polyester interior with pockets for her many goodies. She and Boompah used to drive out from Florida in the winter to visit us in California in their Nissan with the punch-code locks. Their combo was 1432 for "I love you too."

My Mom's mother's birthday was two days ago, and I put off calling even though I wanted to talk to her because I feel guilty that I am closer to her than my Dad's mother. I went to look up her phone number in my cell and there was my other Nana's phone number right below. I just started bawling. I couldn't help myself. How many times did I scroll through that number on the way to someone else and not call her? How many times did I call her on her birthday? Or Christmas? Or Thanksgiving? Or just because. Not many.

We weren't close. And I feel incredibly guilty for that. I got tired of trying to talk to her on the phone because she didn't seem to want to talk to me. The last time I even saw her was over 5 years ago.

Towards the end of her life, it seemed to everyone in the family that she was not particularly interested in talking to anyone anymore. She didn't want to be around people, or leave the house, or bathe. She lived with my aunt, and the day before she died, my aunt convinced her to take a shower, bathe, and afterwards my aunt curled her hair so she'd look pretty. My aunt made a joke about how she knew Nana hated her for making her bathe and Nana pulled her down to eye-level and grabbed her by the hands and told her, "No. I love you." It was the first time she'd said so in a very long time. She passed quietly away in her sleep that night. No cause of death could be found, so they called it simply "old age."

I hope that we all could be so lucky to go as peacefully. I think she knew she was leaving, and I am so grateful that she had dignity in death. I think she would have wanted it that way. But I wish I could have said "Goodbye."



That is all.