Please, celebrate me home,
Play me one more song,
That I’ll always remember …
… uneasy highway,
Traveling where the Westerly winds can fly
— Celebrate Me Home (written by Kenny Loggins)
Almost a year ago to the day I wrote a blog post about my Nana, “A Gift For My Nana.” Back then she was in the midst of a battle with Alzheimer’s and had just been moved to a nursing home for round-the-clock care. In that post I wrote about my favorite memory of her: the crazy, loony, seemingly useless “Nana gifts” she used to leave under the tree for me and my siblings (and later on for our spouses). Man, do I miss those presents, those memories!
Sadly, we haven’t been able to indulge in Nana’s “Christmas tidings” for years now, given her dementia and the fact that none of us are together for the holidays anymore because we all live scattered throughout the country. But those cozy, heart-warming, sentimental feelings of nostalgia crop up whenever the holidays draw near. And this year it’s hitting even closer to home because my Nana passed away a few days ago, on Thanksgiving night. She got swept up in a COVID-19 outbreak at her nursing home and her already-fragile body simply … gave out.
My family did not have a chance to say goodbye and for obvious reasons we are unable to come together to celebrate and honor her life. Words cannot express how heartbroken and angry I am for that, but I refuse to remember her in sadness and resentment. Instead, I will keep her spirit alive through the happy Christmas memories of her I have come to cherish and the thoughtful gifts she never failed to bestow upon me and my family over these long decades (which are scattered throughout my home). But there’s one gift in particular I want to tell you about today.
In my previous post from a year ago, I mentioned that my parents had undertaken the sad task of parsing through my Nana’s limited possessions and that I couldn’t think of any specific keepsake attached to a memory of her. None that I wanted anyway. That knowledge made me extremely upset at the time, but then my mom (unknowingly) obliterated my pain with a simple, yet stunning, bombshell. After all the discussion surrounding my Nana’s things and their meaning (or lack thereof) to my life, it got me thinking about my own parents and which of their possessions have special significance for me (those from my childhood). Two items stood out in my mind: my mom’s recipe box with the mustard-yellow lid (and all her recipes) and the mistletoe “holder” my mom used to hang up every Christmas (Santa and Mrs. Claus’ huddled heads with the mistletoe nestled in between). I asked my mom back then if I could have these two things one day and, much to my glorious delight, she immediately gave me the mistletoe duo, which is now hanging in the doorway between my kitchen and foyer (and which you can see in the picture to the right), minus the mistletoe. YAY, Santa heads!
How does this relate to my Nana, you ask? I don’t remember the specific conversation, but last year—not long after I published my post—my mom and I were talking about those mistletoe heads and she mentioned nonchalantly that my Nana had given her that Christmas decoration long ago (we’re talking back when I was a tiny little tike!). What?! That simple statement stopped me dead in my tracks (or at least it did in my head—not sure my mom noticed). I had no idea that small, simple, silly ornament that I adore so much—and that literally epitomizes the Christmases of my childhood—came from my Nana. She gave it to my mom, who in turn gave it to me (of course I will pass it down to my daughter one day, too). Is that not the most beautiful thing in the whole world?! I cannot tell you how much that means. I will cherish those heads every holiday season for the rest of my life, content in the knowledge that a little piece of my Nana is still here with us.
I didn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye to my Nana last week, but I am beyond thankful my family and I spent time with her last summer (2019). She didn’t know us, and she probably didn’t remember. But we will, and that’s worth everything.
So, we’ll be seeing you, Nana. We love you and we will miss you. Give our regards to Papa, we know he was waiting up there to welcome you home.
This is a beautiful tribute, Sabrina. We never know what we do that positively affects those around us. It is those moments that measure our worth. Your Nana provided priceless moments.
Thank you, Cioci Donna. You are so right, moments like these mean everything. Sad that it often takes something like this to help us realize and recognize, but better late than never, I suppose. I never understood my Nana as a kid (obviously), but now that I’m an adult I can fully appreciate who she was and see that she loved us in her own special way. She will be missed immensely.
Hi Miss Sabrina. It took me 3 weeks, but I finally remembered to read your blogpost concerning your Nana. I love to read about other family’s personal experiences and the little things shared that go into creating a family “bond”. Your own little girl does not know it yet, but her mom is “paying it forward” and beginning to amass a treasure trove of memories for her to treasure in the future. Your story was touching. Thanks for sharing a nice memory.