April Fool's Day Isn't Funny

My grandmother died this morning.

She landed in the hospital a few days ago from a nasty case of pneumonia she just couldn't shake. Her lungs filled up with fluid, and off to the ICU she went. Nonnie was on a respirator and her body just couldn't take any more. I don't know any of the last details right now. I hope that she was asleep and peacefully dreaming.

It's funny how we never see our parents and grandparents as real people until we're adults. Then, we're always surprised to find that they've had lives and experiences we knew nothing about.

When my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary several years back, I had a clock engraved for them commemorate the event. It ended up being a late gift because I discovered that no one knew my grandparents' real wedding date.

It seems the sly couple had snuck off and gotten married about a month before the real wedding. I was shocked! I couldn't believe my sweet, tiny, white haired grandmother had done such a thing.

When T and I visited a few years ago (pre-baby), I had her drag all the photo albums out and show me people and places I'd never cared to hear about as a child. I was struck by how young and beautiful she was as a new bride. I looked at her happy smile in the photos, and her wistful gaze as we paged through her albums, and I realized something. Oh yes! My grandmother would definitely have snuck off to get married. It made her that much more interesting and special.

Over the last few years, as H&H came along and I got caught up in work and my life, I haven't been as good about calling Nonnie or sending her photos. A few years ago she and Poppy got internet access, so I know she saw pictures of the boys on a regular basis. But still, I know how much she loved to get my all too infrequent calls.

My father was already on his way to Louisiana when we got the news this morning. I've been calmly making arrangements to fly down on Thursday and I was amazed at how well I was holding it together, despite the loss of my sweet, sweet Nonnie.

The damn broke this afternoon when I read a post by Amie at Mamma Loves about her grandmother and why she always told Amie she loved her. The long and short of it is, we never know if we're going to get the chance to say "I love you" one last time. So we should say it as often as we can.

I didn't get the chance to tell my Nonnie "I love you" one last time.

So I guess this is my chance. If there is a God, a heaven, or an afterlife, I'm sure Nonnie knows how much I loved her. How I wish I'd been able to see her more often. How I wish I'd stepped out of my life for a moment and called her more often.

How I wish she'd had the chance to meet Holden and to see H&H together. As the mother of three boys, I know she would have loved that. I know she would have loved to watch me, her only granddaughter, in my new role as mom to two boys. She often joked about how if I tried for a girl, I would definitely have three boys. That's exactly what happened to her!

I'll wallow in regret for today, but then I'll try not to do so. I'll try to live my life and remember her every day. I'll remember her patience with me and the way she would play card game after card game with me, endlessly, when I was little. I'll remember how she would whisper in my ear, "Let's go Visa Poppy," and whisk me off for some clandestine shopping. I'll remember her hugs and her soft Southern drawl.

I'll remember her perfume.

I love you, Nonnie. I'll miss you so much.

Stephie

Drinking With My Cousins

What was I thinking????

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Crabby

I grew up with family seafood boils. I have so many wonderful memories of our extended family gathered around a huge table covered in thick layers of newspaper and piled with steaming crab, crawfish, shrimp, potatoes, and corn. We sat around the table and eat and talk and drink for hours. (Well, they really didn't let me do much drinking when I was 6, but I get to now!)

During those gatherings, I learned my family's stories. I heard about the time Uncle Scott had a burn on him bottom, couldn't wear diapers, and his older brothers charged the neighborhood kids $.05 to come in and look at his naked, burned butt. (And, of course, I learned the story of the burn itself. Your instincts are correct if you guessed that his older siblings had something to do with it.) And then there was the time two of my mom's brothers burned down a garage. And the marijuana plot in the backyard. (I could go on and on, but my mom might never forgive me!) These loud, raucous gatherings are some of the best memories of my childhood and so, of course, I'd like to pass the tradition onto my children.

My parents taught me how to pick crabs when I was tiny. My mother grew up in a household of 9 where it was every man for himself when the food hit the dinner table. Consequently, the rule in our family has always been that once you're old enough, you pick your own crabs and you peel your own shrimp and crawfish. Or you starve.

Last weekend, we got a bushel of live crabs from a friend's connection in Pungo and invited some friends over for a crab and shrimp boil. The kids ran around like wild animals and stayed up way too late. The adults drank wine and beer and ate way too much food. We gorged ourselves on spicy boiled crabs, shrimp and potatoes and crusty French bread. By the end of the evening, my nose was slightly runny from the spices,* my fingers were a little pruned and chewed up from prying sharp crab parts apart, my hands smelled of seafood and newspapers, and my tummy was pleasantly full.

*No Old Bay seasoning will ever enter my house. We use a combination of Zatarain's crab boil and my own special spice combination. Lots of red pepper is involved.

My family may be far away, but I thought of those wonderful family gatherings often throughout the night. T and I shared our family stories with friends. It wasn't the same as my childhood memories, but it was fun. There's nothing better than good food and good conversation. Hopefully, my children will learn who they are and where they came from in the same way I did, even if we have to create our own extended quasi-family.

One thing if for sure though. Hollis and Holden better learn to pick crabs quickly if they want to keep eating them.

My Family Values

“Values are not just words, values are what we live by. They're about the causes that we champion and the people we fight for.” --John Kerry

Julie's Hump Day Hmm this week is about values. I had planned a post about religion because I have yet to discuss religion on my blog. There's a good reason for that. I'm very conflicted and I'm frequently hesitant to discuss the one area of my life where I have absolutely no confidence.

I can't do it. I absolutely cannot hit publish on that post. So instead, I'd like to share some things I would like to give to my boys:

love
kindness
responsibility
empathy

a love of books
social justice
equality
wonder

a love of music
spontaneity
reserve
swimming

a love of art
trust
openness
an inquisitive mind

a love of nature
originality
thoughtfulness
the ability to lose gracefully

a love of mankind
caution
optimism
a healthy dose of skepticism

a love of laughter
sarcasm
hand farts
silliness

a love of competition
ambition
dedication
the ability to win gracefully

a love of animals and small children
tears
joy
loss and learning

The sun, the moon, and the stars. I don't ask for much, do I?

These are my family values.

************

I have a new review of Nina Garcia's book The Little Black Book of Style up on my review blog, along with pictures of my shamefully decadent shoe collection and my favorite pair of sexy shoes. Go read it!