Inspirations from cheese in a can. joey, kelly, danny, and charlie

My beloved Nana died on this past Sunday, November 15.  Yesterday we went to the funeral.  I was afraid that it would be so awkward and difficult, exhausting and painful.  It really wasn’t any of those things.  I thought that it would be hard to be around my Papa, a painfully recent widower, as he said goodbye to his wife of 52 years.  It wasn’t hard at all.  I’ve never seen him so open, so present, so available.  He accepted every hug, every touch, every kind word.  He cried generously and often.  It hadn’t occurred to me that of course he would want to make this a perfect day for her, which he absolutely did.

My Aunt Kelly  (we recycle names a lot in my family) put together a collection of photos of Nana that was displayed at the service.  I had not seen the majority of these photos.  I only knew my grandmother as just that….my grandmother.  I had no idea that she used to be young and gorgeous, carefree and vivacious.  She was Charlene Jennings, young bride and mother.  I didn’t know that my grandparents had had so much fun together.

After the service, back at my Papa’s house, I was talking to him about how beautiful she was, and how I just had never known.  He nodded and teared up and whispered, “Yeah, she was beautiful.  I have a picture of her in my medicine cabinet, that I see every morning.  She borrowed your mother’s bikini one day [fortysomething years ago] and tried it on and I took a picture.  She was beautiful.”  Of course I wasted no time sneaking into his bathroom to see my grandmother’s pin-up.  He was right; she was very beautiful.  She had a thousand-watt smile, and she looked good in a bikini.  But what was so touching was not the picture as much as the fact that he still saw her that way. That was the woman he fell in love with; that was the woman he still loved.  What I saw in him yesterday, more than sadness, more than anything else, was pride.  He was so proud to have had her as his wife.  He was so proud to show her off, one last time.