For Nana P

Six years ago today, the world lost a great lady; a mom, nana, sister, mother-in-law, friend, wife, and maker of possibly the world’s finest roasted turkey. Nana Phyllis, as she was known for the last 17 years of her life, was Jeffrey's mom and she was one of a kind. She was 70-years old when she died on August 31st, 2005. Random thought, why is it that we celebrate birthdays throughout our life but for eternity we are remembered on the day we die?  The birthday seems more like an afterthought (March 14, 1935), when it certainly should have top billing over the "other" day. Cancer was her final battle, but she never let it get in the way of living so I won't focus on it either. Life threw her some nasty curveballs; she buried a husband and a son before she said good-bye, but she was stubborn and strong (admittedly, qualities I didn't always appreciate) and forged ahead when most of us would have surrendered.

Nana P, the shortened moniker the kids created as they got older, was the quintessential grandma. All she wanted was to feed them, buy presents, babysit and take pictures. Didn't matter if the parents objected (“Mom, they don't need more brownies or Legos”) or if the kids balked (“Nana, no more pictures”), she got her way because there was no other way. Not letting her feed you was like telling her not to love you, and that was not possible. To be honest, it was some pretty good eating. A fairly consistent repertoire, but her refrigerator and her dining room table were legendary (friends and family fought for the leftovers at our house). To this day there are foods that keep her name on everyone's lips (and stomachs); Phyllis's chocolate chip cake, Kugel and re-stuffed potatoes are on the menu at every holiday. I do not make any of them; my sister-in-law is the keeper of the recipes. The food was her calling card, but it was more about the meal. A full house at the table was her greatest joy; the aromas welcomed you at the front door (when she moved to an apartment, the trail started in the lobby). All attempts at dieting were thwarted at a Phyllis repast; I was powerless against the overflowing platters that passed back and forth amid the laughter, good-natured insults and an occasional food fight. After dessert, which came without asking at breakfast, lunch and dinner, her 5 grandchildren would dig through the closets of toys (she had her own stash) , put on an impromptu show or work on a puzzle that was always in process on the card table. It was never just a lunch or dinner, it was a whole day. If her calendar (marked carefully in pen) showed we had gone too many weeks without seeing each other, it was a command appearance. I have to be honest, when the phone rang with that "invitation”, there were more than a few arguments in our house after we hung up. Again with the hindsight, but now that most of the family dinners are in my dining room, I wish that I didn't put up such a fight. In the power struggle between our parents and our own new families, most of us resent being treated like children or told what to do. Nowadays, it would be nice to be the child every now and then. If you are still lucky enough to have someone who wants to “mother" you; my advice, let them. Before you know it the generations shift and you're the one making the phone calls and doing the dishes.

When life was good, she shared her bounty with all of us (also marked in pen in a notebook, years later she could refer back and see what a 10-year birthday was worth or what she gave someone for their bar mitzvah), and when life was lean, she still gave more than she should have. She never missed a birthday, anniversary or any other hallmark holiday. Her cards arrived with long personal messages written in loopy cursive which most of us could not read (but pretended we could). My cards were never designated to daughter-in-law and I called her "Mom" because she treated me like a daughter. I hope my future daughter-in-laws do the same, it doesn't take the place of your own Mom, but it feels good in both directions.

I struggled with this post all day because I wanted to remember her the way she would have wanted and hopefully share some of the lessons I learned from her and without her. All she ever wanted was to be with us and take care of us (sounds a lot like what we all want from our children), not so much to ask for and should be so easy to give. Seems hard to imagine at this moment (easier for me with children in their 20’s than some of you) but soon it may be our turn to be grandparents. The way that we treat our parents and in-laws is the model that our kids will use when we are the Nana’s and the Papa’s. I think Jeffrey and I did a pretty good job most of the time, but there will be moments in the years ahead, when my calls go direct to voicemail and someone is too busy to come for dinner. It stings a little to think about that, but we gave them “permission” to do that a long time ago. We all think we’ll do it differently, but we can’t really know that until it’s our turn not to be the parent. It’s hard enough as the mother of young adults to feel extraneous sometimes; add a spouse and another generation and we get pushed further and further away. The grandparent dynamic is never easy; we all laugh and complain about the same things, it’s just different shades of gray. Grandparents are a gift that we don't get to keep forever, enjoy yours while you can. More than once or twice we have all muttered to our spouse, “When are they going to leave us alone? When the day comes that they do, you’ll miss them, like we miss Nana P.  I hope she knows.