nana’s afghan
Originally uploaded by feather.
Today, my Nana passed away, at 95 years old. I am visiting my sister this weekend, and I think I knew it was going to happen soon, Nana has been so ill lately. None of us are surprised. But it is amazing she is really not here anymore.
Ireland is probably the only place in the world that I am from a “mixed” background. I remember my mother, who is Catholic, was having a discussion with Nana- my dad’s mom, about the possibility of ‘after life’. Nana was raised Unitarian, and while she went to church every week, it would be hard to pin down exactly what her beliefs were- unless you spoke with her.
My mom was so disturbed, maybe annoyed(?) that Nana didn’t believe in an afterlife of any sort. It was a heated discussion. “People live on in the words and deeds of the people who’s lives they touched”, Nana said. My mom insisted that people lived on, were watching over us, that we were surrounded by angels. My mom needed to believe that- since her own parents had died probably only a few years before. It comforted her.
But I felt I understood Nana’s way of thinking about it more. I knew that the poems and rhymes taught to me were taught to her by her mother. I knew that the stories passed down were as much an expression of living ancestry as any afterlife. It has always made sense to me.
Nana always encouraged an open mind- not by preaching to me, but by her own actions. Every Christmas, we’d have a visitor from another country through her church- who she’d have stay with her. We met people from as far away places as Japan, South Africa and Morocco, and others. She was always very open, curious, interested. She was on the board to elect a new minister, and I remember they took on a lesbian, and I think that was the first time I ever heard someone in my family say the word.
She was a caterer, and loved cooking. She could make cream puffs in the shape of swans, she had pots as big as small baths, and she loved trying new food. She loved cooking for people, whether it was flaming pudding at Christmas, or the hundreds of pies we made at Thanksgiving at church… or the way she laid out & set the table for *every meal* - including the breakfast. She was a very active citizen, in the League of Women voters- she’d have been so chuffed to see a black man as president in her life time. Sadly, over the last few years with severe dementia she barely had any memory or thoughts at all.
She was an avid knitter. In this photo is a picture of an afghan she knit and gave to my sister. I was examining it this evening, all the stitches- each one she made by her hand. It was very moving, and amazing to touch it and imagine all the days she worked on it, the things she was doing, the smell of her house, the cozy warmth…
This weekend I was knitting with my nephews and we even dyed some wool. Nana would have gotten a kick out of that.
She’d also be pleased to know I was teaching them knitting, the same way she taught me to knit.
And of course, she’d know that in our thoughts and actions, she lives on.
We love you Nana, thank you for being such an amazing person.
