Tell Them I Said Hi

Some of my earliest memories are of spending time with my grandparents.  We were fortunate to have all 4 grandparents still alive when we were growing up.  And still married to each other.  And our parents were still married.  To each other.  And we all lived in the same suburb of Dallas.  Carrollton was our own little Camelot.  All of this is quite unusual these days, but for me, it was the reality of my childhood.  The Norman Rockwellesqueness (is that even a word) of my childhood is not lost on me.  Very middle class Americana stuff.

My dad’s parents, my Nanny and Papaw, and my mom’s parent’s, Granny and Grandad, were weekly fixtures in our lives.   Family dinners, church, soccer games, overnights at their houses…all of it.  They were all four at all of it.  Papaw died in 2002.  Grandad in 2012.  Nanny died today.  

Papaw was ornery and smart and determined but compassionate and generous and loving.  He grew up one of 12 kids in poor, rural Oklahoma, joined the Navy, got a college degree on the GI bill and worked as air traffic controller first at Love Field, then at DFW.  He was tight with his money in all areas except when it came to his grandkid’s education.  He believed in education.  

Grandad was less educated, but equally as poor from Arkansas.  He made up for his lack of formal education with work ethic and blue collar skills.  Found his way to Dallas, found my Granny and married her as quick as he could.  So quick it would be scandalous by today’s standards.  He was funny and sarcastic and loved music.  He would sing “Lord have mercy, Kelly’s got her blue jeans on” to the tune of an old country song I giggled and laughed each time.  He loved us all as fiercely as a cuddly teddy bear can.  He also tolerated Granny’s love of chotskies and knickknacks in a way that only true love could.   

My grandfathers were part of the greatest generation.  I miss them, but have gotten used to talking about them in past tense.  

And now I have to get used to talking about Nanny in the past tense.  Our family is no stranger to loss and it’s not like I’m in shock over the end of a 90 year life.  She lived a long and storied life.  A full life. But damn, I’m sad.  And I know why.  She was one of the last remaining things that connected me to my dad.   Since he died in 2006, she seemed even more precious to me.  Of course I always loved her and appreciated having her (and all of my grandparents) in my life but she’s become somewhat of a crutch in the journey of grief over losing my dad.  It was kind of like as long as she was still here, the woman than grew him, made him, birthed him, raised him, then part of him was still here too.  He came from her.  Now she’s gone.  And the last physical connection, the last earthly piece of him is gone.

Nanny was born in 1926 as Allie Christeen Griffin.  Two Es.  She went by Chris.  She dropped the name Allie after hearing her mother say once when introducing her as a young girl “Allie…you know, like an alley cat”.   Nanny has experienced more loss in her life than any one person should have to experience.  She lost her father as a young girl, her mother as a teenager.  Life was not easy.  Years later, she’d lose countless friends, her husband, her sister and then the biggest blow, her son.  My dad.  But her faith was always strong, never wavering.  She lived alone for years after Papaw died until she couldn’t.  Then she eventually moved to Nevada to live with her daughter.  My dad’s sister.  My aunt, Kim.  Kim and her husband have cared for her tirelessly.  These last years were not easy.  These last months were damn right cruel.     

Nanny was a quiet kind of strong.  To outsiders, she may have appeared meek and submissive to my Papaw.  But those of us in the inner circle knew who the boss was.  She was quiet, but when she spoke her opinion on something, he listened.   And for half my life I didn’t know this.  I didn’t know she ruled with a silent fist.   I just always thought they had a very traditional/old school marriage and Papaw was in charge because he was the loudest.  But I seriously love that in a time when a poor, orphaned female teen could have taken a very different path in life, she got the handsome husband, the two kids, the white picket fence AND she had a strong voice.    

I will miss her. 

I will miss her. 

I will miss her. 

I can’t say it enough.  I will miss her for her, but I will also miss that last connection to my dad.  I will forever regret not getting to see her one more time.  And I will forever wish I had met Jade sooner and had my kids sooner so she could know them, and they her.  She met Ellis only once.  She was tickled that we named her Ellis.  She never met Lucy Bell.  I am beyond sad for us.  But I am rejoicing for her as I know she’s in her happy place with her parents, sister, husband and son.  Nanny had told me years ago she didn't know why she was still here, that she was ready. And that gives me peace.

I’ll see you when I get there Nanny, tell them all I said hi!   I'm sure you had quite the welcome committee.

One last thing...I guess you timed it to see dad again on what would have been his 45th wedding anniversary with mom....pretty neat.