from rebecca
Nana,
I’ve been thinking about saying goodbye to you.
It’s so hard to say everything I want to.
You always waved goodbye.
Even on cold winter nights–me and Noah tucked into the backseat of mom’s station wagon–
you would stand out on the porch in your long winter coat, waving.
My hands touched so many summertime sunsets
waving until we went around the bend and couldn’t see you anymore.
It was a sacred ritual for me.
The past few years, we’ve already said goodbye to you in many ways. Which is why instead of goodbye, I’m going to say: “I’ll remember.” I’ll remember you when I sit in our garden, when I smell charcoal and blown out birthday candles, when I hum to myself while I work, when I’m teaching my granddaughter how to cook matzo balls, when I put a warm cloth and vicks vaporub on her chest when she’s sick, when someone says “i love that jacket, where’d you get it?” and I tell them it’s yours.
Even though you’re gone, I feel like you’re free. And I know you can see me waving. I love you always.
This is such a beautiful celebration of what I can see through these words was someone very much worth being celebrated. I celebrate with you in spirit in your gratitude for having such a special Grandmother.
Beautiful. Your Grandmother was so talented and so much fun! Us theater folk broke many a leg together.
Your beautiful story about Nana made me smile and cry, Rebecca. Ma Marion, to me, was a stand-in mother when I needed her the most. Her love of cooking and of gardening stayed with me though out my adulthood. I still make her chicken paprika – with that yummy rice and chicken cooked altogether as only she could do (even though I tried). Her sense of style and amazing good taste in decorating…
But most of all, her love for all of her family. She was one of a kind and she is very missed.
So sorry to hear about your loss.