A Lifetime of Dreams

Originally published on Little Merry Sunshine on May 11, 2010.

As I go through the process of cleaning out Nana's house, I look around at all the stuff that's accumulated during her almost 93 years and I think about the meaning of it all. On one level, it's all stuff. Some of it has some financial worth, but most of it can only be valued in sentiment. But on another level, all the stuff she's collected represents her lifetime of dreams. Dreams not only for herself, but also for her children and grandchildren.

I've looked through old photo albums and scrapbooks and seen her pride in my mom's and uncle's accomplishments. I've read through the letters she sent to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson after my grandfather died in 1961 attempting to get a mistake about my grandfather's VA benefits (and subsequent benefits for Nana) corrected. I've read letters she wrote to my mom and uncle later in life telling them of her unconditional love and letters she wrote to Dave and me telling us how proud she was of our accomplishments and her hopes for us. I've flipped through the well-worn pages of her Bible knowing that she turned to it nightly for comfort, inspiration, and life's answers. I've found boxes of my baby clothes (many of which she made)she carefully preserved in hopes my daughter would wear them someday. I found the blanket that kept me warm in my crib when I first came home from the hospital (and initially tossed it in the charity box, but then got sentimental and saved it). I've walked through her childhood in Mississippi with her sisters through pictures and diaries. The house itself is the culmination of a lifelong dream. She built it in 1969 from her life savings. The stories I've heard say she would come over after work once the frame was built and hang sheets where she wanted the internal walls to be located. There probably weren't too many other women who were designing and building their own homes. I've held the dress she wore to my parents' wedding in 1970 in awe of just how exquisite it was. She was so proud to walk her daughter down the aisle. I found a silk sari a friend had custom made for Nana in Fiji. Mom didn't even know of its existence. I also found half a dozen quilts Nana hand sewed and felt the care, hope and love she sewed into each stitch.

Sure, it's just stuff, but it all represents a life well lived. She may not have been rich in a financial sense, but she lived life on her terms with love and a never-ending faith in everyone and achieved most, if not all, of her dreams. That makes her wealthy in my book. I hope that when I pass away, whomever is charged with dividing up my personal belongings can say that about me.

I Think Nana Visited Me Last Night

Originally published on Little Merry Sunshine, March 19, 2010.

As I type this, my fingers are trembling.

About 10:15 this morning, I opened my front door to check out the snow. Yes, snow. It was almost 70 the last few days and this morning it's snowing. And Mother Nature is messing with my head with a migraine today. Damn, her. But I digress.

Anyway, I opened my front door. The grass is covered with snow. The driveway and walkway to the front door are soaking wet. Snow is flying around. The tree branches are snow covered. I'd say it was pretty, but it's the first day of SPRING. Snow in the Spring is not pretty.

Sitting on the wet ground at my front door was a picture. A picture of Mom, Nana, and me. In fact, it was this picture:
One of my absolute favorite pictures of us. I love the smile on Nana's face. I love how genuinely happy she looks. I love how healthy she looks. She was in the hospital for knee replacement surgery and this must have been a few days after the surgery when she was finally feeling like herself again. Notice the lipstick she's wearing. It was her belief that no matter what else was going on in the world, as long as she was wearing lipstick, everything was okay. And people wonder where I get this belief from.

The picture sitting on the ground had been on my Christmas tree, as evidenced from the hole punched in the corner, but the ribbon was missing. Not torn out, just missing. My 2009 Christmas tree was a memorial to Nana and featured about 3 dozen pictures of Nana along with snowflakes she'd crocheted, but it was a fake tree, so I'm not sure how the picture ended up outside when I put the tree away. There were no water stains on the picture from months outside and the picture was completely dry, which was odd since it was laying on the very wet ground and it was snowing. Aside from a little dirt, the picture was in perfect condition.

I'm not sure where this picture came from, but I dreamt about Nana last night. Although I don't remember the details, I do remember she was visiting me here in my dream. And she was the way I remember her. Smiling. No gray hair (seriously, when she died at age 93, she had almost no gray hair and I hope that bodes well for me). Wearing lipstick.

When I woke this morning, I had a tough few moments deciding if my dream was real or a dream. I wanted it to be real because I miss her so much. I often think about if I just had 5 more minutes with Nana how I would spend it. I'd have so many questions I'd want answers to. So many things I would love to tell her.

Maybe my dream wasn't really a dream, but was reality. Maybe she actually visited me and left the picture, so I'd know it was real and not a dream. Maybe the reason I overslept and have a migraine was so I wouldn't rush out of the house through the garage early this morning and miss the gift she left me. Maybe.