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I got the news yesterday that my grandmother, my last remaining grandparent, had died of complications from pneumonia.  Nanny had been in an assisted living facility for the past several years, and also suffered from severe dementia.  Basically, she hadn't been "Nanny" for some time.  It's a shocking and sad thing to witness.  I'm glad that she is not suffering anymore, and I believe that she's in a better place. 

My family had planned a simple, private graveside service tomorrow, but I arrived home this afternoon to find out about an unexpected funeral home visitation.  Apparently, Nanny still had quite a few friends that had called and asked about the service.  My dad and uncle decided to hold a viewing tonight, and I went to support my dad.

She looked so different.  Skeletal.  Frail.  But her face was set in that same determined expression that I had seen my whole life.  We're stubborn people, my family and I.  It's our way or the highway.  That's the Nanny I remembered.

My five cousins, most of whom I haven't seen since I was fifteen, drove in with their flocks of adorable children.  So many years gone by!  The youngest is a junior at Texas A&M now, two are teachers, one is a stay-at-home mom with two little boys, and another has two little girls and is pregnant with her first son.  We talked about the old house out in Noonday, the strawberries we used to pick there, the old rope swing out back.  The games of Truth or Dare that we played long before we could think of any really good dares or had any secrets to confess.

I guess it's just a shock to see us now, grown and independent (for the most part).  I'll admit, I feel a little behind.  It's hard to watch those younger than you race by on life's little trek.  But there's time for that.  Not an incredible amount of time, as I was reminded today, but enough.

Kelli's coming up tomorrow for the service.  We'll probably go out for a drink with Leslie.  I'll get Guinness if I can.  Nanny was always so proud of me for loving my heritage.  I owe her a toast.