It's Been 2 Years

This is how I'll always remember Nana.

I was standing in my friend Danica's living room when my phone rang. It was Sunday, July 12, 2009 at about 3:15pm. Danica had just asked me how Nana was doing and I was telling her that after a rough few weeks, where we never knew if she'd make it through the night, I believed Nana was stable and would hold on for just a few more days until I could arrive in Florida on July 15th to celebrate her 93rd birthday with her on the 18th.

I looked at caller id, realized it was Mom and ignored it. I'd spoken with Mom about 2 hours earlier and she was headed over to the nursing home. I'd asked her to call me so I could talk with Nana. Talk is not exactly the right word. She couldn't talk anymore. Thinking back, I'm not sure she'd spoken in a month or so at that point. So I'd do the talking. I'd tell her how much I loved her and couldn't wait to see her in just a few days. We'd celebrate her birthday with cake and candles.

As I pulled out of Danica's driveway, about 15 minutes later to head home, I called Mom back. She was at the nursing home, but I couldn't speak to Nana because she had passed away at 3:10pm ET (about 90 minutes earlier).

Nana had died.

Those words didn't really sink in. I just got to work. I knew what I had to do and I did it. At that point, real tears were probably a few days away. I had to work with Crystal Beach Community Church and Batesville Presbyterian Church to arrange two funeral services. I got the obituary edited and submitted to The Panolian (Batesville, Mississippi's newspaper), St. Petersburg Times and Tampa Tribune. I wrote the eulogy I would give twice. I worked with Dave to get him to Florida and then to Mississippi before returning to Michigan. I had to get Mom from Florida to Mississippi and back to Florida. And I had to get from Chicago to Florida to Dallas to Mississippi and finally home. I still owe my cousin Elesha huge for what she did to make it possible for me to attend Nana's burial.

The rest of the story is told elsewhere on Little Merry Sunshine (and here) and over at Remembering Frances. That's not really what this post is about.

Two years have at once flown by and dragged at a snail's pace.

I've closed Nana's estate. I've figured out how to get out of bed again, be happy, and not miss her every single waking moment. I've changed careers. Some days I don't miss her at all.

Don't misunderstand me, I miss her. A lot. I miss her smile. I miss her Southern drawl. I miss hearing "Jessica, you're my favorite granddaughter" even though I was her only granddaughter. I miss her pretty delicate hands. I miss her fingers intertwined with mine as she held my hand. I miss her remembering every single detail of life (yep, that's where I get it from). I miss receiving birthday cards that were made for little girls when I was in my 30s. I miss the boxes of grapefruit off her tree and the fruitcake she made with too much bourbon because she didn't drink and didn't understand that the axiom "if a little is more, a lot is better" wasn't really true, although when it came to bourbon in fruitcake, it actually was. I miss her weekly handwritten letters. I miss her telling me she loved me "a bushel and a peck." Holidays are different.

But she's not really gone. Well, she is. Obviously. But I feel her presence and sometimes even hear her voice. I can hear it now as I type. Sometimes I can even smell her. Once, I saw her. Feeling, hearing and even smelling her typically only lasts for a brief second before it disappears, but I'm certain in those moments, she's here. The time I saw her was in a dream, but I have no doubt she'd been here that night too.

I've thought a lot over the past two years about what I'd say to her if I had just one more minute with her. I've tried to figure out what one question I'd ask or what one profound thing I'd say one last time. But after giving it great thought, I'd tell her the same thing she said to us each night before bed or each time we'd get off the phone.

Good night. God Bless. I love you. Sweet dreams, Nana.

The House That Built My Mom

Right after Christmas, my Aunt Dixie died. She was Nana's last living sister. It wasn't entirely unexpected; she'd been doing poorly last July at Nana's funeral and pretty much went straight downhill from there.

I'll be honest, Aunt Dixie's death was bittersweet to me. On the one hand, she was the last of Nana's sisters and the last of the Greatest Generation in our family. It would not be an understatement to say she was the matriarch (or maybe more accurate to say she thought she was). Her home in Batesville, Mississippi was the gathering spot for family celebrations, tragedies, and everything in between. On the other hand, she had publicly blamed me for my parents divorce when I was 12 and I'd spent the past 25 years or so staying out of her way. As sad as her passing was, there was part of me that felt relieved and even glad.

Mom and I debated whether or not to make the 10 hour drive to Batesville, Mississippi for Aunt Dixie's funeral, but ultimately decided that we wanted to be there and as a bonus, we'd get to "celebrate" with Christmas with Nana by visiting her grave. I packed a little bite of Nana's fruitcake and one of the Christmas ornaments I'd made for my Nana-themed Christmas tree to leave at Nana's grave and off we went.

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Mom was born in Oxford, Mississippi and lived in Batesville until she was 8. Nana, of course, was born and raised in Batesville, as was my grandfather Jesse, who died 10 years before I was born. Nana's sisters Johnnie and Dixie also lived most of their lives in Batesville and their children raised their kids either in Batesville or in a neighboring town. With the exception of my mom's brother Michael and his family, Dave and I were the only ones not raised at least part-time in Batesville.

Until Nana's funeral, it had been 15 years since either Mom or I had been to Batesville and we both knew this would probably be our last trip. For me, this trip was about saying goodbye to Nana in a way I hadn't had time or the emotional ability to do in July. For mom, this trip was about to be about her ability to reconcile her childhood with her present and future.

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The day of Aunt Dixie's funeral, Mom and I were up and dressed early with about an hour and a half to spare before we were expected anywhere. Mom wanted to drive around and see some old "landmarks."

First, we drove to the house Nana was raised in. At least four generations of my family have lived in this house. From Big Mama (Nana's mom) to Nana and her sisters Johnnie, Dixie, and Mazie, to all four sisters and their families separately and together, to Johnnie's grandson Robert, many members of our family can count this house as "home" at one point or another. It was part of the family farm, which at some point after Aunt Johnnie's death was sold.

I remember sitting in Aunt Johnnie's kitchen when I was about 6 or 7 and feeling the house shake and hearing the dishes rattle. I turned to my mom and said, "they sure do have low flying airplanes around here," even though we were no where near an airport. As a kid growing up 15 minutes from O'Hare, it was simply the only thing I could imagine would make such a racket. Aunt Johnnie turned to me and in no uncertain terms informed me that it was a freight train and the railroad tracks were 100 yards outside her front door. She then asked my mom what kind of a child she was raising that didn't know the difference between an airplane and a freight train. The thing about Aunt Johnnie was that if you didn't know where you stood with her you were either deaf or you weren't listening.

The house that built Nana. They added on the bathroom located in the left of the picture behind the bush. Before that, they had an outhouse. The railroad tracks are 100 yards to the right of the house as you're looking at it.

Mom wanted me to see her elementary school, Batesville Elementary School, which had also been Nana's elementary school. It's been Batesville's elementary school since 1897 and occupies one entire city block.

Next, we drove by Aunt Dixie's house on Highway 6. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but on the inside, the rooms are elaborately decorated in the Federalist style, or as I affectionately refer to it, Early American Whorehouse. Honestly, I affectionately refer to it that way. In fact, there are some pieces of Nana's furniture that have been in Aunt Dixie's house for years that I'm hoping I can get because I love them. Aunt Dixie also has a huge basement that her late husband, Uncle Happy, built. We used to have the most fun family parties down there. In fact, it was in Aunt Dixie's basement, that Aunt Mazie flashed the entire family one Christmas. But I digress.

When Mom lived in Batesville, her house was located just left of Aunt Dixie's house. After Mom's family moved to Crystal Beach, Florida, they sold the house and it was moved to make way for a strip mall.

As I said, Mom's house was moved about a mile or so from its original location after it was sold. Over the year, Mom has mentioned many times that she has always wanted to go back into the house and see how it looks now. When they moved to Florida in 1956, it was a very sudden move and I don't even think Mom knew they were moving. I've always understood that they went for vacation to visit Mom's godmother and decided to stay. In fact, they left most of their furniture in Batesville because they believed they'd be back, but they never returned.

Because there were cars in the driveway, I pulled into the drive and told Mom to go knock on the door. I can't remember the last time I saw Mom move so fast as she did racing up to that door. A middle-aged woman answered and it only took a second for her to invite Mom inside, while I waited in the car. There was a part of me that wanted to see the house my grandfather built and see where my mom came from, but I knew this was really Mom's journey and worried a stranger wouldn't let two women she didn't know just roam around her house.

Mom returned about 20 minutes later with tales of how nice the woman was and how much of the house was still the same. The bookshelves my grandfather built in Mom's room were still there. The kitchen and the pantry were still the same. The owner, who it turned out was the daughter of the family that purchased the house from Nana and my grandfather, bragged to my mom about how well my grandfather built everything so only minimal work had had to be done over the years.

Getting back in the car, I could see a glow on Mom's face I hadn't seen for years. She was so happy to have been given this gift of visiting her childhood home and the only house she felt like they were a happy family in.


Having been at Mom's house in Batesville, I now have a better appreciation for the old 8mm family movies I found last summer and had converted into DVD. I can better picture these movies being filmed inside Mom's house in Batesville. This is the only video I have of my grandfather. (Get Little Merry Sunshine via email? Click here and go watch the video on Little Merry Sunshine.)

Jessica Gardner from Orange Guest on Vimeo.

Being back in Batesville was not easy. It was an emotional trip, but it was well worth the 20 hours we spent in the car. I don't know if we'll ever go back, so I'm a happy I gave Mom the time with her cousins and the opportunity to step back in time in her old home.

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A few months later, I first heard the Miranda Lambert song, The House That Built Me, and it brought tears to my eyes as it took me back to that day in Batesville with Mom.

Six Months Later

Six months ago today Nana died.

I honestly don't even recognize my life these last six months. In addition to the loss of Nana, a couple of friendships I believed were indestructible have died too. And Nana's sister, my Great Aunt Dixie died right after Christmas.

It's been a sad six months and I still cry more than I want to. The good news is that at least I can control it better now. I don't spontaneously burst into tears very often, although it happened in public just last week.

The last six months haven't been all sad though. There's been a good bit of happiness too. Because Aunt Dixie died, Mom and I went back to Batesville, Mississippi, for what will probably be the last time in both of our lives. Mom and I visited Nana's grave, shared a sliver of the last bit of fruitcake Nana ever made with her, and left a picture of Nana, Mom, Dave, and me on her grave. I got to stand there, take a deep breath and just say good-bye, like I couldn't do in July.

The highlight of that trip for me though was reuniting with my cousin Robbie. We used to be incredibly tight - she was like an older sister to me, but we had a falling out 14 years ago and hadn't spoken since. The truth is that I missed her greatly and had thought a number of times over the years that I wanted to reach out and extend an olive branch, but I never did. I was still hurt. It turns out she was still hurt too and it felt really good when we finally sat down and worked it all out while we were in Batesville.

I'm so glad Robbie and I didn't turn the page on another decade without speaking. Too much time had passed as it was and we both missed out on many things in each others lives and times when we could have used the other. I can't say our relationship is back to the way it was - 14 years don't get forgotten overnight and it hasn't even been a couple of weeks - but we're on our way.

Nana always taught me that family matters more than anything. She was right, and I know she smiled as she looked down from Heaven and saw Robbie and me making up. Come to think of it, maybe Aunt Dixie had something to do with it too. Maybe after all these years, she gave us that one final gift.

The Most Fun, Sad Road Trip

When Nana died, on July 12th, I was already scheduled to fly to Florida on July 15th. I had been planning for months to spend her birthday (July 18th) with her and then fly to Dallas for the annual Mary Kay Seminar (July 21st - 25th). What I had not counted on, obviously, was that Nana would die 6 days before her birthday. Immediately, it became obvious to Mom, Dave, and me that the best way to celebrate Nana was to have her Celebration of Life Service in Crystal Beach, Florida (where she had lived since 1956) on her birthday and then fly her to Batesville, Mississippi, where she was from and had always planned to be buried.

Services were scheduled in Batesville for Tuesday, July 21st and everything seemed to have fallen into place perfectly. I'd get to Dallas on Wednesday the 22nd, the day I really needed to be there and wouldn't have to miss any of the fun or any of Nana's services. That is until I called American Airlines to add in this one little stop in Memphis (the nearest airport to Batesville).

American informed me that to add a quick 24-36 hours in Batesville via Memphis and then on to Dallas would cost me an ADDITIONAL $1100 PLUS $150 to change my ticket. Ugh. I had bought trip insurance, but it wouldn't come close to covering this.

Quickly, I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't be there to bury Nana. That is until I spoke with my cousin Elesha in Dallas. She had the brilliant idea to change the Dallas leg of my trip and fly in, not on Tuesday, but on Sunday the 19th and she would drive me to Batesville and back all in time for my Mary Kay event. This wasn't some quick Sunday afternoon drive. Batesville is almost 9 hours each way from Dallas. This was HUGE. I argued for a second, but only a second, and then I called American. For only $300, I was able to change my arrival in Dallas and I'd be able to go to Batesville. Wow. (Elesha's grandmother and my Nana are sisters and in addition to attending Nana's service, Elesha also wanted to see her grandmother who's no spring chicken herself.)

I flew into Dallas on Sunday afternoon, and bright and early Monday morning, Elesha and I piled her two kids - ages 7 and 4 - into her car and off we went. Now, I drive to Watervale all the time. But that's only 6 hours max. And I've driven back and forth to DC (12 hours) plenty of times, but it's been almost a decade since I've done that and I never did it with kids. I honestly wasn't sure what to expect.

But her kids were amazing. Sure, they had their moments, but there weren't any meltdowns or major fights. We heard a couple "I gotta go to the bathroom's" and "I'm bored," but all in all, the kids got an A+ for their behavior. I was mighty impressed. That got Elesha and me to talking about road trips when we were kids.

Today's kids have DVD players in the backseat with a library of movies. We had License Plate Bingo. Today's kids have air conditioning they can personalize for their seat to stay cool and comfortable. We hoped our brother didn't fart in our face. Today's kids have roadside oases with every fast food restaurant they can imagine. We had Stuckey's with cardboard "food" if we were getting a treat. Otherwise, we had picnics that consisted of warm, but homemade fried chicken and potato salad made three days earlier. Today's kids have 6-disc CD changers in the car. We had AM Radio. Maybe. Today's kids can count on clean bathrooms. We carried on old coffee can that the whole family used in the car as we were driving down the highway. (I swear I am not making that up). Today's kids have Nintendo DS's that talk to each other. We entertained ourselves by motioning to the truckers to blow their horns. Today's kids have individual car seats. We didn't use seatbelts, slept in the back window or on the floor, and were constantly whining "Mom! He's on my half on the backseat!" Today's kids are well behaved and don't fray their parents' last nerves. We had Mom yelling "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to turn this car around!" and "Don't make me come back there!"

Now, of course, I still counted the number of Waffle Houses (11) and Stuckey's (1) we saw, but some things never change, no matter how old we get and I did it more out of curiosity than anything else. For the record, we didn't stop at either.

Reminiscing made us laugh a lot, which I desperately needed. Even though it was for a sad reason, I had a blast with Elesha and her adorable children. She's a great mom, a great cousin, and an awesome friend. I can't believe I thought for one second I wouldn't go to Nana's burial and I'm eternally grateful that she made it possible for me to attend.

The Last 10 Days By the Numbers

Since July 15th, I have . . .

Traveled 4,293 miles (conservatively) . . .
To and through 5 states . . .
Slept in 7 beds . . .
Seen 11 Waffle Houses, but only eaten at 1 . . .
Seen only 1 Stuckey's and 2 Starbucks . . .
Attended 2 Celebration of Life Services and 2 Visitations . . .
Given 1 Eulogy twice . . .
Buried 1 Nana . . .
Shed at least 1 million tears . . .
Attended 1 Sunday church service and was anointed with oils once . . .
Attended 1 Mary Kay Seminar . . .
Received 3 awards for being #1 in sales in our unit and area and achieving the Company's Princess Court of Sales - all for the 3rd year in a row.

Now I need 1 vacation.