83

today my late grandma nana would have turned 83 years old. she died when i was only ten years old and at this point in my life, i remember more stories about her than i do have actual memories with her.

my dad has always told me that i took after my grandma nana's study habits. growing up, her parents were terrible alcoholics and would beat her if she was caught doing any homework. she'd stay up late and finish her assignments under her sheets with only a flashlight to guide her. she had polio as a small girl and as a result her left thumb muscle was basically deteriorated and one of her legs was slightly shorter than the other. these are the things i remember hearing after she passed away.

my sister looks just like grandma nana: circular face shape, forehead about the width of two fingers, and rather busty. my cousin natalie can be stubborn just like grandma nana. my cousin rebecca is like her in her long-term passion for softball. grandma nana didn't play (though i'm fairly certain she watched becca play with pride), but her passion for giving blood seems to be just as long lasting as becca's need to play. everyone once in a while, i go through grandma nana's belongings and i'll find her treasured medals of donating incredible amounts of blood over her lifetime. that always inspired me.

i do remember seeing her about 6 weeks before she died. i was at green valley elementary and she came to see me play the violin. at that point, i'm pretty sure she had already been diagnosed with lung cancer and she had lost so much weight. i always remembered her as my soft and round grandma that constantly smelled of cigarettes. damn those cigarettes. they took her when she was only 70 years old.

we were all there the day she died; myself, a little too young to understand what to do or how to be when your grandma is in your aunt and uncle's front bedroom with an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, in a coma, with your whole family essentially waiting for her to stop. stop breathing. stop living. stop suffering. just stop everything.

chelsea was holding her hand when grandma nana's body took one, last heaving breath and passed on into the universe. ali wrote down the time of death, 3: 27pm...or was it 3:10pm? regardless, that was the moment we had all been waiting for and now, now there was nothing else.

grandma nana was organized and from what i remember had written out checks for her upcoming month's bills (including that of the cost of her cremation) so as to leave as neatly as she could. how odd, to know you are with all certainty going to die in a matter of weeks. what do you do? what did she do? did she go through her belongings, giving clothes away to donation centers as though it were spring cleaning? i wonder if she knew how much my sister and I coveted over her lavender paten-leather clock bag. did she cry?

on the day of her funeral, we all sat in her condo and i wrote a poem with a line for every letter of her name, velma lois hanson. the poem lies tucked away in a box of my mementos at home in california, waiting for the next time i open that box of memories. i remember missing her so much and how my cousins, my sister, and i cried for we lost our grandma nana. as much of a pain in the ass as she was, she was gone and all we had left were our memories and her two sons, our dads, to fill in the blanks.

i think of her often, mainly wishing i could have had more time to get to know this woman who brought my father into the world, who cradled me when i was a baby, who stayed up late doing homework under the sheets. i wonder if we would have gotten along. i like to think we would. either way, i miss her.

happy birthday grandma nana.