Nana,
I miss you already. I feel like a chapter of my life just closed, because you were the end of a legacy. You and Grandpa were part of my family history and my own childhood, integral to every memory and photo album, even though we shared no blood.
I remember being terrified of you as a kid, because your life revolved around hard work and chores, which were the antithesis to my view of enjoyment. But then, one summer something changed, and you changed in my eyes. Suddenly I learned that you loved to read, that you were hilarious, and that you liked pastrami. Then, you were personable and I was finally able to have conversations with you and to see you as the beautiful person you were.
Thank you for the lessons you taught me as a kid, to work hard and stick with it and learn as much as possible. And thank you for the memories, for the thousands of apricots and cherries from your trees, the endless hours in your sandy backyard, the hundreds of bowls of pintos and oatmeal (that you didn’t even like–ha ha!) Thank you for the music and for taking care of my family countless times. Thank you for being the only grandma I’ve really known.
I love you, Nana, and I’m glad that you are finished suffering. When you wake up, there will be no more work for you–only rest, and reading, and Grandpa, and laughing, and maybe some pastrami.
