Four years ago, my mom and I flew across the country to North Carolina to move my grandmother to Texas. I was excited for her to finally be near us in our hometown after missing 18 years of my life, but I could’ve never predicted what was coming.
She moved in two doors down from our house and found her little niche of what was now her new home. Adapting was hard and finding friends at the age of 70 was even harder. Well, she did it; she is loved in this town like no other and is treasured by every single one of my friends. The people my mother and I are friends with here treat her better than anyone else in the room. My Nana became everyone’s Nana and she couldn't love it more. Everywhere my mom and I went, the question was, and still is, “Where’s Nana?” She continues to go everywhere we go, hopping in the car when we honk the horn out front, grabbing her coat and purse, ready to go faster than my mom and I usually are. She is always up for an adventure and is constantly asking me and my mom what she can do to help. She is the most selfless being I know and will ever know. I come downstairs and there are little notes left on the counter saying, “Have a good day. I love you more than the world.” She leaves chocolates out by my door, puts stuffed animals in my car seats, and most importantly, she always reminds me to pray. My mom and I have walked into her room countless times at night when she is kneeling bedside, hands crossed, murmuring words we only wish we could hear. My grandma has been my rock since the day she moved in next door; I never imagined that I would find someone as important to me as my mother, but I found that someone in my Nana. I am only praying for a hundred more years with her.
Behind all of this beautiful time I have had with my grandmother, where she came to every sports game to watch me, took care of me when I was sick, ate dinner with me every night, and stayed up late to talk about everything and anything, she was, and still is, sick. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s 10 years ago and has been on medications for it since that day. The medicine doesn't do much but upset her or mess with her appetite. It doesn't bring her mind back or help her remember what happened five minutes ago. It simply keeps my mother and I hoping her mind is coming back with the swallowing of a pill. She takes them because the doctor tells her too; God forbid she misses a day, then my mom and I are swarming her with them. She knows her mind is leaving and has learned to be content with that fact. She accepts what she cannot change and lives as if every minute is not a memory, but a moment. She’ll remember what she did five seconds ago, but five minutes will pass and that memory is gone. What has became beautiful about this, though, is watching her be so thankful for everything in her life, despite the most important thing being gone. She loves people for who they are, enjoys doing whatever my mom and I drag her into, keeps up with me while I’m running around the streets of New York City, sits at a concert while my mom and I are singing every word, eats dinner with us every night and says the blessing, keeps the dogs company when she's not attending sewing classes or eating at the senior center downtown, drives out to Walmart every time she runs out of ice cream, and she always remembers to show my mother and I an unconditional and unmeasurable amount of love. If she remembers nothing else, she remembers to remind us that she is only beating as fast as she is because of us and the God above.
Her faith and her passion have shaped me into who I am and keep me believing what I believe in. Her hard-working will inspire me to do my best every day, and if I can’t accomplish it today, I can try again tomorrow. Her loving heart gives me hope that I will become half the woman she is and love people as unconditionally as she does. If I ever become a grandmother, I have a pretty hard role to fulfill after seeing what she has done for me. Her soul radiates love and happiness to everyone around her. She is 78 years old, yet she walks like she is 15, drives like she is 16, lives like she is 21, and is as wise as most are at 100. I will forever be keeping her in my passenger seat as we roll down main street in the Pink Bug, driving her to get ice cream and coffee from the shops downtown because that is what she lives off of. I will forever be honking my horn to tell her to run outside to the driveway and hop in the car with purse and coat in hand and make her walk the nature trail at the park when its 90 degrees out. I will forever make her sit outside by the pool and read a book while I swim even though she hates the water, and I will forever be remembering the day she moved to my hometown and became my very best friend. I don't think I did anything to deserve a relationship like this with my grandmother, and I don't think she’ll ever know just how much her friendship, time, presence, and unfailing love means to me. When she leaves the world, a piece of mine will go with her. I will continue to live in the moment and know every memory doesn't live forever.