A Gift For My Nana

My paternal grandmother—my Nana—is in the midst of a battle with dementia/Alzheimer’s. It began several years ago with mild forgetfulness and has quickly progressed to an almost complete loss of memory. She has brief moments of lucidity, but they are few and far between. After living alone for almost 30 years, she recently moved into a nursing home and my parents had the unforgiving task of sorting through her limited possessions, most of which they donated. At the time, my mom asked if there was anything my siblings or I wanted, and other than one small thing (which unfortunately my mom couldn’t find) I was unable to pull up any other relic attached to a memory of her.

Believe me, I know that sounds awful. And at first that really bothered me. My Nana and I aren’t particularly close, you see. She’s always been a rather difficult woman, and not the type to elicit feelings of warmth and affection. I remember being much more fond of my Papa—her husband—but he passed away when I was 12 years old so I never had the opportunity to build and nurture a relationship with him the way I, and I imagine he, would have wanted.

I used to wonder why my Nana always kept herself at somewhat of a distance. Why she never showered us with love and tenderness. As a child craving these things—especially from a grandparent—it’s easy to misunderstand and take it personally. Now that I’m older, though—and a mom—I can understand and appreciate that her life wasn’t easy, and that embracing her soft, emotional side just didn’t come naturally to her. I’m an extremely emotional person. I wear my heart on my sleeve, so it’s hard for me to relate to people who aren’t in touch with their feelings. I harbor no ill will toward my Nana, though. It’s just who she is, and I’ve accepted that. Looking back, I can see now that it had nothing to do with me or my siblings. And that her actions in no way reflected her love for us. Her love was always there; it simply lay beneath the surface of her enduring melancholy, which she unfortunately could never get a handle on.

As I’m sure you can imagine given her debilitating disease and circumstances, I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, particularly within the winter wonderland of holiday memories and traditions. I mentioned above that I could think of only one small keepsake of hers to serve as a reminder of her presence in my life (now that Alzheimer’s has stolen the woman we once knew), and how sad its loss initially made me. But then, once I opened the door to my past, I realized that I already have pieces of her scattered throughout my life—and my home. So, I’d like to share my favorite memory of her with all of you. And it just so happens that this memory revolves around Christmas.

For as far back as I can remember, my Nana went all out on Christmas presents for us. I suppose that was her way of showering us with love. Whatever it was, though, we would walk into her house on Christmas Day and oodles and oodles of presents would be crowded under her tree. The “problem,” though, was that because my Nana wasn’t particularly close to us, she didn’t really know our likes or interests or hobbies all that well. So anytime we mentioned one tiny thing we liked, she ran with it and then killed it. LOL!

One year I mentioned in passing that I loved Winnie The Pooh (he is still my all-time favorite, by the way) and—much to my dismay!—discovered a crap-ton of Pooh memorabilia under the tree! We’re talking cookie jars, pillows, a tea set, sheets, pictures, plaques, stationary, ceramics, a telephone, figurines. You name it, I got it. (At this point, I should mention that I kept and still have many of these gifts to this day.) In later years, my mom went through a frog phase and then an apple phase. And so, well, she got frogs and then apples for Christmas. Another time, we were at my brother’s place opening our “Nana gifts.” He had just unwrapped a shirt and was commenting on how this gift actually wasn’t so bad when he looked down at himself and realized he was already wearing the exact same shirt. Yup, my Nana had bought him something he had already gotten for himself! Hilarious!! Boy did we all crack up in that moment. To this day we still laugh about that Nana story.

But that wasn’t all. Each Christmas, my Nana also loaded up on “useless”—but hugely expensive—items that none of us would ever want in a million years, LOL! Think collectible shoes and pictures of shoes (I can’t, LMAO), pictures of frogs and apples, statues of frogs and apples, porcelain dolls, flashlights, grooming kits, matchbox cars, scentless candles, her idea of “fashionable” sweaters (which were always the wrong size, of course), jewelry and cosmetics from Avon, wallets, old lady perfumes, tools, shaving equipment. Once she even bought banana hammocks for a guy I was seeing at the time! Oh man, this blog just brought a huge smile to my face … and tears to my eyes. 😊 ☹ It’s so easy to see now how much she loved us. She simply showed it in her own special way.

This Nana Christmas tradition went on for years and years—even into adulthood. It became the longest-running joke in my family, and one of the things we all looked forward to most about the holidays. “Gee, I wonder what Nana got us for Christmas this year” became our infamous tag line. Every year we’d open our Nana gifts and snicker under our breath and poke fun at each other (in the most loving of ways) over the weird things she picked out for us. She even got my sister-in-law and my husband in on the game, which we all found even more hilarious. (Disclaimer: My husband is a gadget junkie, so he more often than not ADORED the gifts Nana wrapped up for him. And I must admit I love that about him.)

Ah, memories.

I can’t believe we ever laughed at those gifts—not in a mean way, of course. We were just kids who didn’t know what was what. It’s only now that I realize how much they meant and still mean to me. Those funny, thoughtful gifts are one of my all-time fondest memories of the holidays, and it saddens me that they are long gone. I miss them with every fiber of my being, and I would give anything—anything—to be able to open just one of those crazy gifts with my Nana again on Christmas morning. Now I’m lucky if she even remembers who I am. Because Alzheimer’s has robbed us of her remaining years. What a horrible, horrible disease. It strips you of who you are and leaves your family in the dust, clinging to the ghosts of memories long past. I’d rather live with those long-ago happy memories, though, and remember my Nana when she was good, when she was present, when she was my Nana, than remember her the way she is today—a shell of the person she once was.

I think that’s what she would want. I hope that’s what she would want. And so that’s the gift I’m giving to her this beautiful Christmas season.