m-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i

my nana died last night. at age 99 and 1 month exactly. it's a good thing-really. she's been ready for a long time. in fact, i think she'd started to wonder if God had forgotten about her living in Tennessee down the street from Dollywood. She was a really special lady. my memories of her are mostly far off- from when i was little, the age of my kids.
she taught me how to spell Mississippi. she made jello with coolwhip on a leaf of iceberg lettuce. she had that 6 pack of general mills sugar cereal boxes for us to eat when we came to visit. she made a mean lemon cake. she dressed well, and smelled good and knew her manners. she knew her bible inside and out, mostly by memory. her faith was deep and unwavering and steadfast. there was no question of where she would stand on something. she'd made it through many hard times- leaning on her God. she loved her husband, and cared for him until he passed on. she'd learned to drive in her 60's, and had walked several miles, in her little heels, to deliver her youngest when she was 44-refusing to get in the car because her labor would stop. " Bill, i'm going to have this baby!". and she had a sense of humor. this little lady birthed 4 wonderful children, reared them well, and sent them out to change their worlds, which they've all done. and so her legacy continues.

the last time i saw her was about a year ago in her nursing home in Tennessee . she was scooting around in her wheelchair holding a stuffed bear.
"oh, thank Goodness you're here! i'm trying to buy this bear and i don't know where to go?" she knew that she knew me, but wasn't sure how. i spent a while going between explaining to her that she owned the bear already and trying to answer the myriad of questions coming from my 3 kids: why is nana in that wheelchair? why does she want to buy that bear? does she understand you? can i have the bear? why does it smell funny in here? can we have some pudding like that guy? we went into the family room and i asked nana if she could tell the kids a bible verse. and then like sometimes happens with people with dementia, when they dig back deep in their pasts, the old familiar circuits get dusted off- and she got that twinkle in her blue eyes and started to remember.

when we were getting ready to go zoe held her hand and said what everyone else was feeling, "oh great grandmother wood, do you feel so bad that you can't walk and that you live in this nursing home all alone and do you just miss your husband who died terribly?"

last night when we'd been told that she was on her way- we prayed for her- to be pain free, to have easy passage, to feel loved, to not feel alone. zoe asked that God would make her a special room with flowers and at least one dog, and that her husband would be waiting and that she'd be able to dance with the angels. and today, i felt her smile.