in honor of Nanna (and grace)

 

    Grace works in strange ways. Today it showed up in the form of dependence. My phone died (the iPhone 8 life) during our pan de muertos baking class so I had to ask my dear friend Anna if she’d let me text my sister from her phone, just to get updates about Nanna. Instead of isolating myself, as I am wont to do, I was forced into community and sharing my grief. 

    And who knew? A similar thing had happened to Anna with her grandpa when she was in high school. And we both hate the phrase “assisted suicide,” as it feels like a crass way to explain the end of the suffering of our loved ones, but that’s what it is I suppose. 

    It was interesting to make pan de muertos today and place las lágrimas on the bread and think about Mom and Nanna. And later, once the bread had been baked and dipped in sugar and partially consumed, I got the call that Nanna had taken her pill and begun her assisted transition to whatever it is that comes next, helped by folks from an organization called Death with Dignity (a name and mission I at least appreciated). And as I brought the phone back to Anna, I was wrapped in a hug and the tears just fell. And I thought of the lágrimas I had just rolled and placed on my bread. And I felt held and comforted as she pushed me along, along the ramshackle sidewalk, away from the group, for a moment of peace. Juju came up on my side, and instead of shrugging away from the intimacy, I softened into their embrace and let their kind words and soothing caresses wash over me. What a gift they were for me today as they reflected the goodness and gentleness of the divine.

    Nanna was a woman full of life and vigor and so much joy. The memories I have of that lady... She was always ready to smoke us all in Tripoley, go for a long, winding walk or load us up with jelly beans and m&ms and her famous banana bread and oatmeal cookies. She had a wall full of hats and an adventurous spirit that she passed on to our mother who then passed it on to my sisters and me. 

    I don't really know how heaven works, but I hope and trust that my dear mother welcomed Nanna home today, wherever they may be.