Two years ago tonight, my father's mother died. She had been in poor health, and was in a nursing home to recover from having a pacemaker implanted. She had eaten her dinner, and was in her room, in her wheelchair when the nurse or attendant went in to help her prepare for bed. She passed peacefully, for that I am thankful. I called her "Nanny," because she told me that, when she tried to get me to call her "granny," I either couldn't or wouldn't. As I was her first grandchild, "Nanny" she was, ever after.

I miss her so very, very much. She was always "there" for me, whenever I needed anything. She gave me the gift of childhood when things in my parents' house were crazy. She let me play in the mud, and never minded the mess. She helped me sew doll clothes, she let me pet kittens after the supper dishes were washed, and when she baked a cake, she always left enough batter in the bowl for me and my brothers to share. She taught me. So many, many things.

She went to the drugstore one night for medicine when I needed it and couldn't get out, and my own mother wouldn't go pick it up. I never in my life said the words, "I need..." followed by anything she could supply, that she did not try to do. She took me to parties, and to church. She visited me in the hospital, when my mother found it "too painful" to be there. She taught me my first prayer, and hers was the first phone number I memorized.

Once, my first husband was unemployed, and money was tight. My daughter was a toddler, and one day I called to see, if she was going to the store, if she could bring me a loaf of bread or something small like that. For the next six months, without being asked, every time she shopped, she bought "just a little more than she needed" and brought us a bag of groceries. At Christmas, she wrapped presents with one item in each box, so there were lots of presents under the Christmas tree. She told me later, she did it so she could watch our faces light up. She taught me to cook, and she let me help. She let me watch, so I could learn. I still use her holiday recipes. I can still hear her voice, and her laugh...She never went to high school, but she wanted to be a teacher...and she taught me well. She told me, "you were my 40th birthday present, three days late. Her birthday was February 11, 1914; mine is February 14, 1954. We always celebrated together...

At her funeral, in addition to many, many other flowers and tributes, there was a heart-shaped vase with five salmon colored roses in it, one from each of her grandchildren, including my brother who passed on as an infant. My mother told me, "Karen, you are the only one of us who would have thought to do that." That little vase was the only one left on her grave the day of her funeral, which took place on my fourth wedding anniversary (I'm remarried). She kept the history of our family, in photos, and in a scrapbook; she had the only pictures of my deceased brother, and she gave one of them to me to keep. She lit one of the candles at my wedding to my current husband, and the wedding video is priceless to me. How I wish she could have seen MY grandson, Dylan!! I'm never going to forget her, and I will always love her.

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The difficult I do immediately. The impossible takes until after lunch...