Nan...12.20.10

My Nana died... She was 93. She was the oldest living person on my mother's side of the family. I could write volumes about my Nana, and although she wouldn't think so, I think she led a very interesting life. She was 3 when women earned the right to vote, she was 12 when the great depression happened. She worked for a company that wouldn't allow married women to work, and worked for them while secretly married (quite the rebel, like me). 
She broke her arm twice in the same year, and had to teach herself to write with her other hand while healing... as a result, you could put a pen in both hands, and you couldn't tell the handwriting apart. She painted, quilted, kept a daily journal for most of her life, and was a pack rat, but in a REALLY good way. She took a lot of pictures, and wrote on the back of every one of them.


I have all of her journals, and plan on reading them. I'm hoping that I'll be able to learn even more about her, and maybe get a little insight into her relationship with my mother, which was also strained.


When my mother passed away, I called my uncle (her brother) to deliver the sad news... he told Nana, and I think she was devastated. I wanted to come see her, but she wouldn't have it- instead she wrote to me, saying we were distant relatives at best- I had not seen her since my grandfather had died 6 years prior. Over the last year, I really wanted to see her- to try and at least reconnect with her and hopefully repair some of the damage caused by my mother and their strained relationship. But I was constantly rebuffed by my uncle, telling me it wasn't a good idea. I should have gone anyway.


Nan lasted a year past my mother, then decided she was done. For a 93 year old, she was in good health. Heart , lungs, organs... all fine. She literally decided she was done living and decided to shut down.


When my Uncle called to tell me that Nan was fading, I got in the car and drove to Pittsburgh. I loved her, and wanted to tell her so, face to face. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I always new my Nana to be feisty, sharp, and full of life- the woman I saw was frail, and a shell of the woman I knew. The hospice nurses had given her morphine, and so she was in a fog when I came to her. The next day, she was really agitated, and calling for her husband and her mother. I got to talk to her a little- I told her I loved her, and thought about her often, to which she replied, "no, you don't." I said I did, despite her being her, as I loved my own mother. She calmed down, and held my hand, and I got to say all of the things I needed to say. I can honestly say it's helped me cope with her passing, knowing that I got to have some closure, which I didn't get with mom.


And I learned something else... Nana died on the same date (and almost the exact time) as my Pop. That woman had a plan, right down to the end.


I hope that wherever she is now, that she and my mother have forgiven each other. That they have regret, and love.

Catching up...

Well, I can safely say that the whole "take a picture every day and blog about it thing" didn't really work out for 2009...
But I can catch you up in a nutshell:
Spring went by in a rush, followed by a very busy summer with work, life, etc. I worked at the LPGA (which is a true ass kicker) and several other work related events over the summer... fall went by in a flash, and then... December.


The beginning of the month was a blur... every department in Wegmans had their holiday party (which we hosted at the conference facility), and Chris was opening the much anticipated Next Door Bar and Grill (December 11).


Opening came and went, and the restaurant was crazy busy... restaurant and gift certificate sales went through the roof, and you couldn't get a reservation to save your life. I went over to help sell gift certificates, along with other members of my team, because we were winding down with parties and wanted to help out in any way we could.


December 17th... I was at the restaurant helping out... it was about 2:00 in the afternoon, and Chris comes up to me and tells me he had to talk to me in private. His tone and body language made me think there was trouble, but I was in no way prepared for the news he was about to lay on me: That my mother had passed away. My world stopped- time stopped- I couldn't hear him or understand him. We stood there in the office and I went completely numb. That moment is imprinted on me in the same way the Shuttle did when it blew up, or when the Towers fell... I will remember every millisecond in excruciating detail for the rest of my life. 


On December 15th, sometime in the early evening, she had just gotten finished cooking dinner, when she literally dropped to the floor, either from an aneurysm or massive heart attack. She was alone, her cell phone still on the counter above her. It would be two days before her ex-husband #2 found her (they had made plans to get together, and when she didn't return his phone calls, he went by to check on her). The coroner said she wouldn't have felt any pain.

Let me tell you a few things about my mother...

Like a lot of women I know, the relationship I had with my mother was strained at best- it wasn't the picture of warm and fuzzy. Our phone conversations mostly gravitated towards how broke she was, and how it was my daughterly duty to buy her a house, or a car, or pay off her credit cards, etc. On Mother's Day, she told me that I was the mother and she was the child, and how it was my job to take care of her. The last time I physically saw her was July 2009, where we sat in uncomfortable silence eating lunch, and I was counting the minutes until I leave to meet up with friends. The last time I saw my mother alive, she was standing in front of her house, tears in her eyes, as I was pulling away. 

I am the same age now as my mother was when she left my dad for the guy my dad hired to do yard work for her, because he felt that she needed help, and he was away a lot on business trips. That man (if you can call him that) would come to be the bane of my existence, and a wedge that would drive my mother and I apart forever.  I have always been critical of her life choices, and have held them against her for as long as I can remember, but now that she's gone, none of that seems important. We can get into the gory details at a later time.

My mother's mother (my Nana) is still alive, and I guess I had it in my head that my own mother would be around as long as she is... I still find myself dialing her number from time to time, feeling guilty about not having spoken to her in a while. My hope is that I can finally come to grips with her death, and learn to love and appreciate her as my mother, not as the pain in the ass financial and mental drain that I had considered her to be for so long.

my mom, sister and me, taken May of 2007

My point in writing all of this, is that her passing was a huge wake up call for me, on more levels than I can count. Firstly, I have this overwhelming desire to write- and to continue this blog. My goal is still the same: to give you a 365 degree view of me, but I will use the lessons I have learned and try to be as honest as I can. I will still use photography as a vehicle to demonstrate who I am, what I'm feeling, etc., and I hope that in reading this, you will learn a little more about me.