Together at last

Today we said good-bye to another grandparent. Today sweet, spunky Nana had a beautiful reunion with Granddaddy, who preceded her by about a year and a half. I know they were so excited to see each other again.
For most of my childhood, my grandparents lived right next door to us. They looked after us whenever they needed to. When we spent time at their house, we enjoyed playing with toys from my mom's childhood or homemade toys (old spools and scraps of wood became building blocks, worksheets and typewriter paper left over from Nana's career days were perfect for coloring). If I'm being honest, I have to admit that unfortunately when someone suffers from dementia for several of their last years, the dementia also begins to rob the person's loved ones of their memories of the original person. But one thing it can't rob me of is the knowledge that she loved her grandchildren. Nana and Granddaddy were the type of people who would do anything for anyone. When I was learning how to drive, one afternoon I wanted to practice but my parents weren't home. So Nana, who was being visited by my Aunt Mary, was more than happy to ride along. And with two little old, gray-haired ladies as my passengers, I drove right into a ditch! I was a bit embarrassed and freaked out, but they were not phased.
Some old people are young at heart and seem more youthful than their age. Not Nana and Granddaddy! They were old to the core! I always hated riding with either of them in the car. In addition to the painfully slow driving, they were always listening to some depressing, old person radio channel with soft, classical music. One of Nana's biggest passions was genealogy. She had a whole bookcase filled with books and binders full of information she had compiled. She loved to talk about it, given the chance, and could tell lots of stories about ancestors. In my younger years, I remember how I enjoyed going to family reunions with them, even though I still don't have a clue who any of those people were. Once, after the reunion, Nana and Granddaddy and some other old people, sought out an old, forgotten cemetery that was in amongst the woods. I don't remember much about what we were doing there, only that I had to go pee in the woods.
Nana and Granddaddy's house had a basement. My brothers and I, as kids, loved trying to sneak into their house. We would enter through the crawlspace, which connected to the basement and was really more like a walkspace than a crawlspace. We always felt proud of ourselves to have sneaked in, and roamed about their house without their knowledge, and then we'd go back home, leaving Nana and Granddaddy none the wiser. One time, however, we hid in their bedroom closet, in amongst their clothes. Nana, having come into the closet, must have noticed the clothes rustling because she called out "Paul (Granddaddy)! Get in here! I think a raccoon must have gotten in here!" I can't remember if she said anything about a gun or not, but my brother Paul didn't wait to find out! He quickly called "don't shoot" and our jig was up.
My Nana taught me things. She helped me learn to drive, she helped me with my homework, she tried to teach me to sew. But she also taught what it means to follow the Savior's example. I can't recall a foul word every coming from her lips. I don't recall ever hearing her gossip or speak ill of others. She was kind. She believed in serving others. She believed in Christ and attempted to do what He would have her to do. She was a good woman.
My mom has frequently retold the story of Nana's presence at my birth. Apparently I didn't cry when I was born and Nana thought I was dead, but she didn't want to tell my mom. Yesterday I was able to visit with Nana as she prepared to leave this world. It was terribly sad, and hopefully will not be the lasting memory of my grandmother that I carry with me. I am happy for her that she is no longer trapped in an infirm body and confused mind. I know she missed her "hubby", as she always called him, and how sweet is the peace of knowing that they are together again at last.