It was another year and another Christmas for my Nanny.
The vast majority of those were spent within ten miles from where she was born.
She’d always give me that stunner of a smile as she said it was a whole ‘nuther world back then.
When I first wrote this, she was a marvel, heroic even:
She’s ninety three and still in her house living pretty independently.
Mostly independently… A homecare worker stopped by daily. They give her a LOT of support.
More importantly though?
My aunt and uncle lived next door.
My other aunt and uncle are living up the hill.
And my mom and dad?
They have their own place up the hill too.
Nanny was the centre of gravity.
She kept us all together.
Her dark clouded pessimism always drew us in.
Pessimism?
She lived through the depression, mumps and the war.
She watched her mother slowly die.
Expectations were best kept in check like a fully nutted pitbull.
When she couldn’t do the stairs, her laundry was moved to her spare room. When she couldn’t keep the woodstove running, she got an oil furnace. Just recently, her roof was reshingled, she had a window and doors replaced.
Her big yellow 50 year old house was updated and ready for another fifty years.
Changes and improvements that would be there long after her ashes mixed with the sands of Clam Harbour beach.
Years ago, everyone thought I oughta be in an apartment, where someone can take care of me. I like it here just fine. When I go, they’ll wheel me outta here feet first.
I smiled and shook my head: That’ll happen when you wake up dead some day?
My nanny didn’t have her partial in. I could tell. She tried hard not to smile. I could clearly see the place where her teeth could have been.
We live in the best part of the best part of the world. And I’m lucky to have so much family around. I can’t imagine what people do who don’t have anyone to take care of all these little things.
I'm going to go out of here feet first - that was always her wish.
In reality? Her last days were in a nursing home.
I thought it would be more of a cursing home but it turned out to be a blessing.
We had her 95th birthday there. She cried and cried again - 'I'm so lucky. I just feel so loved' we were all drenched in tears of joy.
And maybe a few in anticipation of what we all knew was lurking around the corner.
She didn’t leave that house feet first. She left us with the child beside her who was always there, another child walking away while a third was rushing home just a moment too late for a final goodbye.
It was perfect.
