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 [email protected].

SPACER!

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