Her birthday

Today is a heavy day.  A special day. A hard day.

Today my Nana would have turned 79.  We would have had a celebration like always.  Nana would have put on a "special" outfit and put on her going-out perfume.  She would have looked radiant.   We'd go out to eat and she'd feel like a princess ordering the most expensive thing on the menu - not feeling bad about it for a second! She would dine with her children and grandchildren.  She would randomly glance to each one of them and tell them how much they meant to her.  She'd look at me and say, "Oh, my Mandy Mine. You are so special!" as she'd take my hand and squeeze it.  There would be laughter and stories and lots of love.  We'd take pictures as our hearts would cruelly remind us that one year there might not be another birthday.

Last year was not supposed to be Nana's last birthday.  It was supposed to be a happy birthday, and I guess it was for awhile.  But then life happened and it will be forever thought of as Nana's last birthday.

I miss her so badly.  I think about her every day, sometimes while driving down the road, sometimes while passing pretty flowers, often while at the craft store, and always at the places we went together.  Sometimes her face, her voice, her hands will stand before me at the most random times.  I'm reminded of her presence so often that I cannot doubt she is with me always.  Scenes from our lives will slowly cross my mind - flickering on and off just like an old reel of film.  And then it flickers off for good.  The memory is over and Nana is gone again.  Life is just not the same without her even though I can almost feel her breathing beside me, lifting me up and telling me that I was her Mandy and her Mandy could do anything.

Her memories haunt me as they hurt so bad, but I wouldn't trade them for anything.  The legacy she left lives on, and it comes up in everyday discussion quite often.  We go to a restaurant and glance to another family's table.  "That's what Nana always ordered," one of us will say.  While perusing the mall, we'll see an outfit and tell whoever will listen, "My Nana would have loved that outfit!"   We see an older lady at the park with dignity and poise.  "Nana was like that."  We bite into a cookie and crumbs fly everywhere.  "Nana always tried to teach us the right way to eat a cookie."  Nana would have done that.  Nana would have liked that.  Remember when Nana...?  She's ever-present.  Every time my mom makes dinner or opens her home to anyone, she reminds me of my Nana.  Nana wouldn't turn anyone away, and even when she had a long day, dinner was always ready on the table.  She didn't rest.  She just gave.  She inspired.  She taught.  She listened.  She tried.  Like my Mom.  And like I hope to be someday.

But right now, I just miss her.  I still cry for her even in the middle of daylight when her face comes to my mind.  I talk to her often, too - I know she is listening.

I want to post a few special things - I know I've posted them before, but they'll never get old to me.  A video of her last birthday just a year ago, a passage she tore out of a devotional (above), and something I found at the very end of one of her books.  I think she left it for us, her loved ones.  She had so much love, and she didn't spare any of it.  Just gave and gave and gave.

I know you're in a better place, but the void you left here will never be filled.

I love you, Nana.