Not a Saint

At 2:30 this morning, my Nanny peacefully died in her sleep.

These are my thoughts as I process the loss of a very special lady in my life (and yours, if you know me):

When we first met, she was afraid of me. At least that's what she always told me. Most grandmothers aren't afraid of their grandkids, but I guess taking care of a premature granddaughter who is hooked up to various machines would be kind of scary at first.

It didn't take long, though, for Nanny to get over her fear, and for me to get better, and by the time I was in kindergarten, she had moved in with us. I honestly don't remember life at home before she came. What I do remember is how awesome it was to have her there. She was a second Mom to me. Not to take anything away from my own Mom, but Nan and I had a special bond. She was there when I got home from school, to make me snacks and watch Scooby Doo (which I couldn't watch alone because I was too scared). She made my dinner and did my laundry and was just there...all the time, because she never learned how to drive.

She was the second oldest of twelve siblings (a feat which still amazes me) born to farmers in Grainger County, TN. She moved out at fourteen (yes 1-4!) to work at the Inn in town. She got married and had kids. Then, when my Mom was 10, my grandfather died unexpectedly. So, my grandmother picked up her scattered life, and moved on. For the first time in her life, she worked outside the home. Eventually, she even owned a restaurant in town where she honed her fine country cooking skills. Anyone who knew my Nanny knew what an amazing cook she was - I can still taste her biscuits, green beans, roast, beef stew, greens, fried pies, cakes, candies, chocolate chip cookies as I write this.

Along with all of those things that I admire about her, Nan sure did have some frustrating habits. She was extremely opinionated and didn't mind one bit to make you mad as long as she felt that she got to have her say. She was pretty nosy, which made private conversations at home almost impossible. She like to have things "her way"... and let's just say it was a bad idea to try to do things any other way.

I visited my Nanny in November as she was in a Rehab Center, and everyone there could attest to the fact that she was a little cranky. She did NOT want to do the therapy they had suggested for her and she told anyone who would listen, from the nurses to the therapists to visitors.
I don't say all these things to defame or dishonor my sweet Nanny but simply to say this: She was not a saint.

My Mom and I had a conversation recently where she pointed out that so often when people die, we make saints out of them, remembering only the good stuff and none of the bad. So as I am processing the loss and the hurt I feel knowing that she is no longer with us, I am not only remembering the thousands of fond memories (her planting flowers each summer, working puzzles on the dining room table, watching Larry King every night, playing with her makeup just to name a few) I am also struck by her humanity, which also makes me acutely aware of my own.

So, here's to you Nanny (Mary Virginia Cameron Wells), you were not a saint, not by far. But you lived, and you loved and you taught me so very much. I am exceedingly blessed to have had you in my life for so long. I will miss you more than you know.

Guest Blog: A Christmas Without Nuts & Bolts

I can't take credit for this one, my older brother, Tate, wrote this earlier in the week and asked me to to post it when I next blogged...

Every year as I was growing up as Christmas neared my parents house was filled with aromas that would make your mouth water. There would be various cakes, pies, brownies, and cookies. There was fudge, both chocolate and peanut butter, and an assorted snack we always called Nuts and Bolts. Most of you have probably had this before but may know it by a different name. It is simply Chex Mix, Cheerios, nuts, and pretzels combined, covered in spices and baked. Even without the benefit of a calendar when you saw the nuts and bolts you knew IT WAS CHRISTMAS!

Where did all of this come from you ask? It came from nan. Nan is my maternal grandmother that has lived with my parents from the time I was in middle school. Why did she do this? That is an easy answer: LOVE. See baking is how nan showed her love, and she was good at it. She loved making baskets or tins for people at Christmas and filling them with the delicious treats she made. She had several cakes that were specialties of hers; Apple stack cake, German Chocolate, Caramel, and Red Velvet. Now don’t get me wrong while she loved the baking it was a labor. Many times I would see her throw out what I thought was a perfectly good layer for a cake because it didn’t meet her expectations. She worked hard in the summer drying her own apples for her stack cake so it would be just right. Anything less just wouldn’t do.

Sadly this Christmas is just not the same. My parents house doesn’t have the same smell. There aren’t cakes piling up for her to keep my hands out of. There is not that big jar of Nuts & Bolts for me to snack on. This Christmas instead of running from store to store for ingredients my mom is running to visit her ailing mother. See nan is laying in a hospice center laying in bed living out her remaining days. A body that has spent an entire life working is reduced to just laying and struggling to speak. And you know what Christmas just won’t be the same.

This is the part about growing up that absolutely sucks because nan is my only remaining grandparent. With the passing of each of my other grandparents there have been changes but they are most noticeable at Christmas. From sitting on my pappaws lap in his chair as a child with him calling me pappaws good boy. Also, watching maymee, my paternal grandmother, host Christmas at her house yearly while enjoying the presence of her entire family. Then, now there is the void of aromas brewing at my parents house this Christmas. Mary Virginia Cameron Wells I will miss you. I will miss your cooking. I will miss the shoulder to lean on when I needed it. I will miss my nanny. Oh and I will miss the Nuts and Bolts.