The Catbird Seat

My grandmother (Mom’s mom) died a peaceful death on Sunday morning, after deteriorating quickly during a difficult and painful couple of weeks in the hospital.

Paul and I were fortunate to have been able to say “Goodbye” to her the prior Monday.

The funeral is today, and the four granddaughters (Julie, Jan, Jennifer and me [the only “C”]) are each writing a little something that represents Nannie to us.

I thought I’d just include mine here, so that y’all could see what an amazing legacy I have.

Nannie, to me

Before PawPaw died, I almost always referred to Nannie and PawPaw together, as if they were one unit: nannieandpawpaw.
And in many ways they were.

But Nannie was an amazing individual in her own right, and here are a few things about her that I remember, admire, respect, or just plain love.

Nannie was a working woman virtually her whole life. A lot of that time it was not widely accepted that you could be a good mother and also work outside the home.

Despite working a full-time job and being a full-time mother and wife, Nannie made time to express herself through crafts (needlepoint, yarn flowers, felt-and-feather ornaments, beadwork, etc.), often into the wee hours of the night.

Nannie was a voracious reader; her genre of choice [Harlequin romances!] is still a shock (and a laugh) to me, but I still love that she was a reader.

When Julie and I (and Jan and Jennifer, too, I bet) spend the night with her, she would make an evening snack for us. It was really special because she gave us Mountain Dew in cool glasses with ice and a dessert (often homemade) all served on a tray that she rested on her stackable footstools or her postcard-decoupaged coffee table. I felt like a queen.

Her house was rarely really clean, and never completely ordered, but it was a treasure chest full of amazing things that she let us explore carte blanche. I loved that.

Nannie taught me some of the finer points of writing cursive (specifically, how to make lowercase “b’s” and “d’s”.) She had beautiful penmanship.

She was the caretaker of the family, and though sometimes it was a heavy burden, she did it (and did it well) anyway.

Nannie cooked with butter and oleo. Exclusively, I think. And even though you can’t spread cold Land o’ Lakes on warm toast at all, and cranberry juice is mighty sour first thing in the morning, I loved them both because only Nannie used real butter and drank cranberry juice.

One time she told me, “Baby, think about what you’re going to say before you say it. Don’t say anything you’ll regret, because one day how you feel about this will change, and you won’t be able to take back your words, even though you’ll wish you could.” Wise words.

Nannie had a real soft spot in her heart for “the second daughter”—because she was one. As a second daughter myself, that always meant the world to me.

She recently gave me one of her Bibles; it was one for which my other grandfather had made a leather cover since the original cover had worn off. When I opened it, I saw that page after page had been written on with notes from many years of sermons. It was obvious that almost every page had been handled and read.

Nannie made life-sized Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls for all four granddaughters from a pattern that she created herself. My doll had a red heart with “I love Cathy” stitched on the chest. Now I understand those were her words to me—not Raggedy Ann and Andy’s.

She love the Lord.
She loved me.

Although I spent many years of my adulthood not keeping up with her goings on, when we moved to Orlando, FL it became a very short 2.5 hour drive to visit her in Jacksonville. So we did. Those visits over the course of our 2-something year stay in Florida restored some of what may have become lost in our relationship, and has made her death have more of an impact on me than in probably would have in earlier years. In fact, I find myself very sad that she has died.

But, as a believer of Christ for more years than I’ve been alive, Nannie’s future in heaven is assured, and it has, no doubt, already begun. And that is a fact which makes me very happy, both for me and for her.

So, goodbye, Nannie. I love you.

Filed under: Catbird, Like a fire, Random Thoughts on October 24th, 2007