02/17/2025
By the closing of business today, I’m fairly certain the first floor of Heaven resembled an issue of Southern Living.
…..lengthy post ahead alert.
There are no adequate words I can say that would express how much I will miss this woman. I know I wrote it all before when I asked for prayers for her surgery, and it seemed she was actually going to come out of it all. She made it through only to leave us so unexpectedly yesterday, but at least I can find some peace knowing she never had to live one minute in a nursing home, which I know she adamantly did NOT want to do. I tried so many times to get her to move here with me and spend her platinum years (she was past the golden ones!) with me and the girls going to sewing ministry and finally relaxing enough to enjoy life, but she did not want to leave her farm out in the middle of nowhere, and I can’t say I blame her. Life out there was just different. I wish her last few weeks on this Earth hadn’t been so mentally taxing. I spent a lot of time trying to assuage her concerns and telling her it was all going to be okay. I told her not to worry, that it would all come out in the wash, to which she replied, “Maybe, but I think I’ve used the wrong detergent.”
This next part seems unrelated, but if the United States had not entered World War II, I probably wouldn’t be telling this entire story.
What does WWII have to do with our connection? Absolutely everything. I likely would never have known her otherwise. Pitt, the love of her life, and a crafty, fun, deeply southern gentleman drove ambulances with my Papaw during the war. Because my Papaw was incredibly inclusive of me (we were besties from birth - a relationship that was probably also fostered because we literally lived in his driveway), he took me and my parents to all of his army reunions. And this is how I met the Nanster - so long ago that I have no recollection of it actually happening, just pictures. Attending those was like having an infinite number of grandparents, but she was more like a mom since she was much, much younger than the rest of them. Side note: it always made me sort of sad inside to think my kids would never get to experience those get togethers because veterans (and their certain type of commeraderie) are a different type of brotherhood. The bond and stories they share are not like anyone else…. BUT - look where life has taken us. They are ALL IN on the veteran front now, never want to miss a roundtable, and have even proudly championed the Be the One campaign.
My Nan was the utmost example of a caregiver. Even in the hospital as I held her phone for her to talk to someone, she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?” She took in everything. Dogs. Cats. Horses. People. (I am acutely aware this also includes myself!) She was a nurturer to a fault. Even though the times I was with her I was 400 miles from home, I never felt for a minute like she wasn’t going to take care of me. Amongst other things, she taught me how to cook, put on makeup, and apply lipstick in the car (lol).
It’s hard to imagine there will be no more phone calls about how to get a stain out or how much vinegar to put in the copper pennies because I’ve forgotten yet again. (Not only did she have real life experience, but she had a degree in Home Ec from back when degrees for women were still obscure!) I knew the last time I was at her house that it would be the last time I would be there, at least in the same type of capacity. I took a long look at my room, the bed where I would fall asleep writing in my diary because she had exhausted me all day long. It’s strange how little details can stick - like the heavy way the light switch felt and sounded when I would switch on the chandelier in that room or the different ways the room would glow during different times of day. At night the frogs surrounded the house by the millions, and in the morning the cows mooed like they’d never been fed a day in their lives. I always knew when it was time to get up because I could smell her Oscar de la Renta wafting down the hallway. It always felt different being there as an adult, but also extremely familiar because it was just home. Even though Alabama is 1,000 degrees in the summer, it was so cozy to be able to crawl into bed with her because she always had a heated blanket going…..and her sheets smelled like linen spray, which Bath and Body Works used to make back in the day.
When I was very, very young, she taught me how to embroider. She would always “check” my work, but as meticulously as she looked at the front that everyone sees, she would inspect the back with a fine toothed comb and would always tell me that “the back needs to look as neat as the front.” I would always reluctantly make sure that I did it, even if I didn’t agree with the idea. But, as an adult, I see that idea more now as a way to live life, sort of an adage regarding one’s integrity. The front should match the back. Whatever people see on the outside should match what you are on the inside, or, what you are behind closed doors when no one is looking.
The girls often mention that they wish they could have a childhood like the one I’ve told them I had, and I wish they could, too. I wish they knew what summers in an antebellum mansion (it seemed that way as a little person!….mansion-like, not antebellum…it was for sure that!) was like - where every day was literally a new adventure, but as much as that, I wish they could have spent them with her because there is no replacement.
There was a card from Pitt that always hung on the wall in the back of her shop. It had a poem on it called “24 Things to Remember and One Thing to Never Forget.” I used to have it memorized for the longest time, but the one that always stood out to me was “Life’s treasures are people….together.” I have never forgotten that sentiment my entire life, and I think it’s a big part of what makes me who I am. I am not a ’things’ kind of person. I would rather have experiences with people I love. I have a few things of hers, and I will cherish them every time I look at them, but what I have to cherish most I will never be able to show anyone. The memories I have are worth more than anything I could ever hold in my hands.
The last time I talked to her, she told me that I didn’t know just how much she loved me and how she appreciated me, but I told her I did know. And I knew for sure because I felt the exact same way. And I hope that even though she was by herself when she left this world, that somehow she was able to feel that.❤️
