Shenanigan's. Malarkey & Heartbreak.

        There is no perfect time but with that being said - this would be the "perfect time" to remember,
                         not that I could ever forget her, my Grandmother. Victoria aka Nana.

Nana passed away in 2001 after a to long of fight with Cancer. F Cancer.
Now that is a statement that I can fully get behind. In front of and circles around too.

     All my life Nana had been my strength. Honestly, I believe that she still is.

March 10th will always be a day that cuts right threw me. It was the day I had to say goodbye to her in a physical sense. It is funny, people will tell you when you lose someone that it gets better over time but I will contest to the fact that is a LIE! It never ever gets better. Maybe the blood stops flowing so freely but that wound is still there. Deep. Stinging with every breath you take.

Sometimes my heart hurts so much when I think about her. About the things she isn't apart of here on Earth now and I catch myself. I know she is still apart of everything here. Everything. She is the scent I inhale on the winds perfume. The chill of the fresh fallen snow. The warm sun on my face when the air turns cold and I have forgotten my coat. She is every song that takes me back home.

     I am sure that my kids get tired of hearing the "same old" stories about her but those stories are how I keep her alive. I need her alive. Always. Sure, maybe I repeat some of them just a little to often, telling by the way the kids roll their eyes when I open my mouth but you know something, I only had her for 38 years and damn it! That was not near long enough. I want not ready to let go then and I don't know why anyone would ever think I am ready to let go now. I am not and I never will be.

     You, whoever you are - might not know it now but even the smallest things someday will be so big that they will be all you have to carry you through at your lowest times. 

I was doing my hair today, like I do everyday yet for some reason I started to laugh. I don't know why or how but a memory came to my mind that I had long forget about. Not even a memory. Something irrelevant. 

     My Grandmother liked to go across the street to have coffee with her friend, Margaret. I somehow would always come up with the idea that I "needed" cash. I honestly don't recall why. There was always plenty of money when I was growing up. I had everything I could have ever wanted or needed but I guess maybe it was just the "power" of having it? Anyways, I recall one day while she was over at the neighbors, I called and asked her if I could clean the house for $17.48 cents. How did I come up with that number? Read on ... Nana said that she didn't know if she had that much cash on her (back then checks were a thing) but I let her know that she did because I checked in her purse before I called. I am sure she was well aware of my shenanigan's but no matter what they were - the answer was always the same "Yes."

     I sometimes wonder how I was even lucky enough to "have" her for as long as I did without sending her to the nut house multiple times.

That woman would go all day long and when she finally was able to get into the tub to relax at night, the second the bathroom door shut - hearing the splash - I would have to scream at her that the phone was ringing. Now of course, I couldn't answer it because I was already in bed so rather then get me up she would have to get back out of the water, grab her robe and run out. *The phone would always stop ringing by the time she was half was down the hall because did it really ever ring to start with? Ummm ... Nope.

     Growing up I always "had" to help pick berries, chop wood and all that other boring stuff. These things were always done way away from the comfort of my own home. Back up in the back hills. The Farm as it was referred to. It was where my Grandmother called home. Where she grew up. The places that held her memories of her parents, sisters, being pen pals with Amelia Earhart. The stories that made me, back then roll my eyes at her like my kids do to me, today. 
     Pops would park up on top of a hill and I would just kind of hang around while him and Nana would grab all the gear to do some serious wood chopping. The axe. Gas powered saw and thermos full of that nasty coffee she would drag around. Down the hill they would hike. Over and under till they were far enough away you could hear echoes calling out for them and barely see the tops of their heads in the distance. I would wait about 30 minutes and then scream and scream for her, Nana. I would never answer when she called back - acting like I didn't hear her. She would be exhausted by the time she got to me, out of breath and asking what was wrong. "Gawd! Your so dramatic! Nothing is wrong, my shoe is untied and it's to hot in this sweltering sun to bend over. - Like, what if I fell or something?" She would just smile - tying it for me and letting me know she was headed back to Pops but to call if I needed anything else.

                           Was I a Diva? Nope. Just a Princess - Queen in training.

I look back now and just sake my head. I was so blessed. So blessed that she was chosen as my Mom. 

I also look back and wonder how I made it with her being as such. Please! As I was growing up, she wasn't the angel she is now. I will tell you that!

     I had to deal with eating salt pies, visions a squirrels flying around, "witchcraft," - even a time she said she needed something signed and couldn't write because her hand was in a "sling." I signed it for her - she then revealed it being a paper saying I will clean the whole house, make dinner and give her a make - over. Now, how was that even fair? I slammed my door and did not make good on that little "trick" she pulled.

     So many times I would ask myself why me? 

Why did she always embarrass me in front of my boyfriends, screaming and yelling at ringside during pro-wrestling matches "Hi Hack(y) it's Grandma!" - stopping the two full grown men from swinging each other around in pools of sweat.

Why did she always bust out in a oh my gosh "fairy" dance while clapping and singing off key as loud as she could in public whenever a song came on she knew.

Why was she always the last face I seen at night and the first face I seen in the morning?

     To this day I ask myself why me?

Why did she have to gain her wings so soon?

Why can't it be like it used to be?

Why can't I wake up in the morning to the smell of the tiny little Forget-Me-Nots she would place at my bedside, picking them from the back yard - before I awoke each first day of Spring.

Why can't I just call her and then tell her I am not going to talk to her while her mouth is full of food and I am unable to understand a word she is mumbling then hang up.

Why can't she just bring me another cup of fresh made Folgers in the middle of the night while I am coughing to calm my aching throat down and sit with me till I fall asleep again.

Why can't I hold my hands over my eyes while she sings "Honky Tonk Angels" or "Funny Face" to me just one more time.

Why can't we have one more argument how the grass is green and the sky is blue.

Why can't I tell her how much I love her and miss her and my heart is only a half of a whole since she shut her eyes?

Why can't she be here right now to wipe my tears away while I write this.
Always being my biggest supporter and larger then life fan.

                                              F- CANCER! Just F- IT!

                                                                            Kazz 💋