My Nana

How do you write a small post about someone who meant the world to you?

(One of our first pictures together)

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me, and you all know that. Thank you to Tom & Chris, Lynette, Mandi, Sissy, Abby M, Laura, Kristen, Cam, Haley, Holly, my professors...and everyone else I am forgetting for the love and support you have given me.

I had the privilege of having Gail Frances Lunn as my Nana first and foremost, but also, in her terms, "a very special friend."

 It was only natural, having spent my first five years of life with her as my daytime caretaker, and the next 13 years of my life with her after-school each day, and countless hours besides that spent at her and Papa’s house. She was the first person I wanted to call when anything was going on, and when I would walk into her house, I would immediately seek her out. Even when physically apart we exchanged emails, phone calls, and eventually sent text messages and would FaceTime occasionally. The best part of my day out at Cedarville was our hour-long conversation we would share each day. Some days we didn't get it in, some days we went over the hour...but I cherished them. She also knew how much I loathed an empty mailbox, so she would write out her daily activities and thoughts and send them in letter form 2-3 times a week, and once a week slipping in a ten-dollar bill. She also sent me monthly care packages full of my favorite sweets she baked, my favorite candies, and usually decorations, or clothes, or coffee to fill the rest of the box. 

Oh, how I miss those already. 

She was my hero, I've never seen a stronger lady. And having shrunk to 4'11 by the time she passed, she was indeed small, but even more indeed mighty. She'd suffered from painful rheumatoid arthritis since my Mom was just a baby, and even though she'd joke about her mangled hands- I loved those mangled hands. Not only that, but she'd survived a bout of breast cancer, a fractured femur...and...well...some broken ribs that were caused by me hugging her a bit too hard as a preteen (dang osteoporosis!). But she had also survived the traumatic loss of her mother when she was 31, and the pain of her only sister walking out on our family about thirty years ago. The Lord was her strength, and she was bold about that. 

There are so many things that I miss about her, and many might seem strange to you, but they weren't strange to me.

•  Her cooking: I had many special "Nana meals" that I know will never taste quite as good even if I make them exactly according to her recipes. My birthday meal consisted of her meatloaf topped with bacon bits, turnip (her and I's favorite vegetable, with vinegar, of course!), olives, and her rhubarb dessert instead of a birthday cake. I am so happy that I was able to have my last birthday dinner with her celebrated early last August. Her sweets and breads were something I happily gorged on, and it will never be the same.

• Her hugs: They got progressively more bony as I grew up, and as I grew taller I had to bend over to get them, but I loved them. She always smelled of baby powder and White Rain hairspray, and I always caught a whiff of it whenever we hugged.

• Her hands: She had what I considered to be the most beautiful fingernails, and though her hands were gnarled and her finger joints loose (she used to love grossing me out by wiggling her top knuckles around), I sure loved them.

• Her distinct yelling of, "Laura!!!": I finally had grown up enough to figure out what I could say that would prompt that. And honestly, especially during our phone calls the past year and a half, I enjoyed being able to tell her the outrageous things I'd done that I knew would make her go off. (Oh, excuse me, she would yell at me right now for typing this, and try and explain that she was only "raising her voice." 😉) 

• Her scolding when I would say I was stressed: Y'all who know me well know that I am stress personified. But I couldn't say that I was stressed one bit without hearing, "You're stressed?! Why are you stressed?! There's no reason to be stressed! DON'T STRESS!!" It just is so funny because she stressed a lot, and I knew that...so occasionally I'd call her on it too, out of good jest. 

• Her handwriting: I have so many letters, cards, and a memories book that she made for me when I graduated high school so I can preserve it. She had such beautiful handwriting, and I loved scanning down to the bottom of each letter where I knew it would read, "Love you bunches!"

• Her hatred of coffee, Kraft Dinner, and me cracking my knuckles: That was one of the first things that struck me when I came home for her funeral. She wasn't there to yell at me for buying yet another iced coffee at Tim Horton's, or for cracking my knuckles. I did not like that silence. 

• Her support of me: She attended pretty much everything I ever did, and for at least my first ten years...she got it on film, too. I wanted to make her proud, and I know that I did make her proud. And I know she would still be proud of me. I felt her love every day. 

• Her never making it through a meal without spilling something on herself: this is pretty self-explanatory. It was extremely amusing, and my mother has inherited the trait.

• Her love of Fox News, Chopped, HGTV, and old game shows: I could always count on us to watch these together whenever at her house...although she normally would fall asleep.

• Her love of cards: I've never been much of a card player, until I played my first game of Rummy with her the summer of 2017. I enjoyed our rivalry, and it hurts my heart that we never got to finish our final game. (But she probably would have beat me anyways...)

She wouldn't have wanted the fuss of this post, because that wasn't the way she was.

But there is a Nana-shaped hole in my heart that feels worse to me than the actual hole in my heart I have.

I knew that she would never live to see me get married, or meet my children, but somewhere in my heart I hoped she would. But she'll live on in my memories. My children will know about their great-grandmother and the love she had for Jesus, and for me. 

(My last picture with her. I wish I'd known that it'd be the last.)

No matter the pain I feel, I am so thankful that her pain is gone. Her body betrayed her, and it betrays her no longer. Some of her last words were her saying she wanted to go home- and she is home, and I am thankful she is with Jesus. I am so thankful for her life, and that God let her be my Nana for nearly 21 years of my life.

Laura xx