Times Remembered - Times Treasured

Everybody called her "Nanny."  That tells what kind of lady my great-grandmother, Nancy Layne, really was.  I called her Granny.

Last year, about this time, Granny had a stroke.  She was out in her garden at the time.  There is not a doubt in my mind that if Granny could have planned it that is where it would have happened.  Her neighbor, Barney, found her wide-awake among the flowers.  He took her inside and called 911.  I can almost hear her telling him, "Leave me here on the couch, I'll be all right."

She stayed in the hospital about three weeks before she left us.  We all knew she was in heaven, because there was not a time when we came to see her that she didn't have something to say about her "sweet Jesus."

While she was in the hospital, I tried to tell myself she would be all right.  Any day she would come home and be as lovable and independent as ever.

While I waited for that day to come, I tried to remember everything about her.  It was not hard to do.  Granny Layne was not the kind of woman to be forgotten in the blink of an eye.

I remembered all of the Christmases that all of my family would go to her house and stuff ourselves to the limit with home-cooked food.  We listened to her tell us how she had gotten up early that morning to make a big meal for her grandbabies, or as Granny called us, her "doll babies."  She loved to cook for us; it was her way of telling us how much she loved us.

After dinner, we all went into the living room to open presents.  Granny's presents were always the best, because they were genuine!  The gifts always had a meaning. They were something really special, because they belonged to her.

I remember one time, Granny gave me an antique tea set.  At the time, I was only about ten years old and thought I would rather have a Barbie.  But now whenever I look at the tea set, I feel that she is smiling down on me.

I remember while sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, the first time that I ever spent the night at her house.  It was not like when I spent the night with my other grandmothers.  We did not wake up the next morning and hop off to the mall.  Granny could not do that.  Instead, she woke up before I could even think of getting up, and fixed my favorite breakfast.

Later that day Dad came to pick me up. Like always, Granny gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Her kisses -- if I ever forget everything else about her, I could not forget her kisses.  Her lips were thin on my skin.  Every time her lips would touch my cheek she would shock me.  Maybe it was the green shag carpets that covered the floor.  Maybe it was a Godsend to help me remember.  I don't know why every time she kissed me I got shocked. I do know that it was as much a part of her, to me, as her name.  I will never forget her electric kisses.

Every time we would leave her house, we would all get a kiss and Granny would say "I luv ya, doll-doll."   I would always say, "I love you too," but I never really saw how much I loved her until that day.

The first time I had gone to see her in the hospital, I was really scared.  I told myself over and over, that I was not going to cry.  Before I went into the room, Dad stopped me and told me that she had not spoken to anyone.  He told me that she looked bad, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.  I walked into the room and saw a small thin woman lying in the bed.  It scared me to see her like that.

"Nanny" was always the strong one in the family.  This woman did not even look strong enough to hold a feather, much less hold a family together.  The second I saw her, the promise to myself not to cry, was broken.  Hot tears heated the back of my eyes.

"Granny, Meredith is here to see you."  My dad's words brought me back into the room where the strongest person I knew was fighting for her life.  I stood there by her bed and talked to her.  I held her cold hand in mine.  As I talked to her, she opened her eyes and looked at me.  Her thins lips parted and out came a voice that tore at my heart.  "Doll-doll..."  That would be the last thing my great-grandmother, Nancy Layne, ever said to me.

The warm person I had grown to love slipped away over the next few weeks.   I went to see her a lot.  Memories flooded my mind.  I thought of many more Christmases, birthdays, Easters and other times spent at her home.  Everything kept coming back.

The phone rang one afternoon at home.  It was Dad.  "She's gone." That was all I heard him say.  I remember thinking about her lying on that bed at the hospital.  My mom held me in an understanding hug while I cried.  "She won't be with us this Christmas..." I thought.

November 12, 1996 was a cold, gray day.  My family sat at the graveside service in the town of Elkin, where it all began ninety-two years ago.

As I listened to the service, I thought. Granny did not get to go "home" in this world, but the next.  I would get to see my great-grandmother, Granny, again someday.

Email me at asbprincess@hotmail.com.

SPACER!

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