So my Nana passed away on the 24th of October, 2017.
I wrote this to be read at her memorial, which is today (November 18).
Nana was great to talk to. I didn’t realize just how great until after she moved to her apartment. We used to talk at least once a week, and at one point, when she was stuck at home due to flu going around, we talked almost every day.
I remember so many things about Nana.
One thing I remember is that we used to have eggo waffles at Nana’s house, and once in awhile she’d buy them for Jackie and I when she would come stay with our family.
There were also the “bulletin rules” that happened when Nana would take us with her to assemble the bulletins for her church. I remember that Michael, Jackie and I had rules (some of them were probably Nana’s, others were done by the three of us, and maybe Angela, I don’t remember if she was with us for that or not), called the bulletin rules, that we had to take care of to go swimming at Nana’s house afterwards.
I remember sleeping over at Nana’s house during school breaks, and having breakfasts with her, Jackie, Angela, and Michael.
Her house was always cool in the winter, and she’d grab her robe for me to use, as she always had layers on already.
I love Nana very much, and she is very missed.
I forgot to put in about the hot chocolate she kept around. She also kept a cabinet full of tea until her doctors told her she couldn’t have it around. My love of tea comes from her and my Dad, and my tea collection comes from how she had one for so long. She also kept sleepytime tea around for us to drink at night (if we wanted to).
She taught me to crochet, a skill I am still working on, and I’ve passed it on to my daughter.
I was reading this article on memory and depression and it made me take some time to think about how my memories and memory problems have impacted me.
This has taken a lot of my self esteem, as well as my confidence, and parts of who and what I was/am. I don’t remember ever having a great memory, but it was bad by the time I was in high school, and has just continued to worsen. It’s to the point I have to write things down or post them here on facebook, or constantly reiterate them verbally. It has not helped my OCD, as I start obsessing over the fact I can’t remember things, and I obsess about things that I want to remember. It has not helped my depression, as I feel less and less like a person, and less and less like a functional person. It was not helped me emotionally because of all of the above. And it has not helped me physically because I forget if I’ve done things or not, and I forget if I need to do things (showers go longer than they should at times because I forget, and I try to clean up every day with wipes but there are times where I forget if i’ve done so or not…
That’s just the tip of the iceberg.
There is good as well, but it’s hard to remember or come up with good things.
So the other day I mentioned some stuff about my former relationship with my now ex-husband.
Tonight we happened up on a Gallagher clip. It brought back memories of sitting on the couch with my ex, watching the dvds we had (he has?) and memories of buying the collection. My ex introduced me to Gallagher, and I enjoy watching, sometimes I’m emotional when I watch, and I don’t watch it as much as I used to – it’s a clip here and a clip there, spread out over 10 years, rather than a whole dvd at once.
Another happy memory is the Final Fantasy games. I only played FFX and the start of FFXII when I was with him, but I do still enjoy them, and play when I can. I remember when I first got FFXIII and I got melancholy over the Final Fantasy games in general. I don’t want my ex back in our lives, and neither does Johnny, but at times I almost wish I could call or email him and tell him things, like about Mischief and how he’s doing, and about video games and little things that actually meant and mean something from our time together.
Someone who was once important to me (and wanted and may still want to be an author) said they wouldn’t read the Harry Potter books because they didn’t like to read. I found this to be ridiculous on a number of levels. Apparently not reading after leaving school is all too common though.
I don’t read as often as I’d like due to brain fog, but I still have a love of reading, and am so thankful for that. I love how reading transports me to other times and/or places. How the characters become friends. It’s wonderful to engage the imagination. To see things that maybe you wouldn’t have known without that book.