Happy Birthday Nana... I Miss You...

101 Years ago today, in Kingston, Jamaica, which, at the time, was known as the 'British West Indies', something took place that was a very important event in my life.. so much so that if it had not taken place, I would not now be here to share my thoughts with you.. The reader must know this if he or she is to take anything of use away with them after having read this post...

On April 28th, 1905 in the house that was located at number 10 King Street, in the City of Kingston, a little girl was born. She wasn't the daughter of royalty, nor did she grow to be a world leader or a Nobel Prize winner.. while her existence may have gone almost unnoticed by the vast majority of folks on this earth, she was (and remains) one of the pivotal persons in my life; She was my grandmother.

My first memories of her were of her intervening to shield me from the abusive temper of my mother. This post isn't intended to be a 'mom-bashing'.. I want to make this much clear; I love my mom. Over the years, we have managed to talk a great deal and to mend a lot of fences. We get along very well. But this wasn't always so. I guess the easiest explanation would be to simply say that I was not a completely welcome child. I don't honestly know if I am right, but I have always assumed that it was because of this fact that I tended to be the one to bear the brunt of her anger, which, at times, was quite abusive.

My grandmother, on the other hand, has never laid an angry hand on me in my life, to my recollection. She raised me through most of my childhood, (she and my grandfather), and they were kind, understanding, loving, wonderful people.

They weren't perfect, and I didn't expect them to be. But they were my 'Nana' and my 'Pop', and I loved them both dearly, and always will.

This is when I was about 8 years old. This is the day I went back to live with my grandmother. I was suffering terrible beatings at home, and my grandmother arranged to take me to live with her. It was a very, very happy day for me.

My grandmother grew up in Jamaica, of Scottish, Irish, Welsh and Rroma (Gypsy) descent. She was the youngest child and was raised in a loving household. When she was in her late 20s, she left the island where she was raised and emigrated to America where she worked as a dancer, chorus girl, as a double for Hedy Lamarr, and as a dance instructor.

She was a fantastically colorful character of a person, eccentric as they come, with an enthusiastic, energetic nature and love of life that very few people can rival.

With her dark, dusky skin, raven black hair, and flashing green eyes, she turned men's heads well into her 70s and 80s! She was beautiful, she was powerful, and she was magical..

Today my mind has been playing and replaying the pictures that my heart took of her, and the memories have been flooding my brain continuously.. alternately making me laugh, making me cry, and warming my heart.

This was taken during the period when my grandmother owned her dance studio. She put on a show during the 1964-1965 World's Fair, and I believe that this photo was taken in connection with that event.

We shared adventures together, went exploring together, laughed uproariously together, and loved one another fiercely. She was always the rock and the anchor in my life. I knew that no matter where I went, no matter what I did, and no matter what I was... that Nana would always love me... unconditionally. I felt the same way about her. She sacrificed a great deal for me, and much of what is good in me I learned from her..

I spent countless hours raptly listening to her as she told me stories about her childhood in Jamaica and Panama (Her father was an engineer and was involved in the Panama Canal project. Consequently, they lived there for a number of years before returning to Jamaica...), her life as a showgirl, and all of the the other stories that she wove with her voice, and hands, and eyes. She told me folktales that originated in the countryside of Ireland, the Highlands of Scotland, the mountains of Wales, the Cornish Coast, the 'Long Road' of the Rroma, the sunshine of Jamaica, and the west coast of Africa.. she taught me kindness, tolerance, loyalty, forebearance, generosity, and how to see the best, and to make the best, of any situation. She taught me that people come first, and that loyalty, honor, and justice were real. She taught me that the only two possessions that I really, truly, own are my integrity, and my love... and that they were the only things that could not be forcibly taken from me; I had to give them away freely... or sell them.

She taught me to see the beauty in the world around me, to revere life, and to honor the earth and all of creation.

She taught me to live.. and to take joy out of every moment.

Nana and my youngest brother.

Everywhere I ever went with her, I heard voices raised in friendly greeting. She was known, and welcomed, it seemed, everywhere that we went. My grandmother was just a woman, but she had a quality that drew people to her like moths to a flame. Being around her was like being at a party. Her life was constantly filled with color, and beauty, and spice, and music.. she was glamorous, vivacious, and one of the funniest people I have ever known.

This was taken, (obviously, I suppose), in the 'disco days' of the 70s. Yes, dammit! That's me in the pic. What a complete dweeb! The upside is that my grandmother was a fantastic dance teacher, and I was able to more than hold my own on the dance floor. Even with the stupid clothes, I actually was able to find dance partners, believe it or not!

My grandmother had a talent for making things grow and thrive... plants, pets, or people... it made no difference. She loved us all and took care of us all. She could take a single leaf, or what seemed like a dead twig and nurture it into a lush, beautiful, healthy plant! Almost any reason was reason enough to have a get-together where everyone could eat, drink, talk, laugh, sing, and dance. She had a way of turning the smallest events into something special. I can remember a candlelight picnic on the kitchen floor during a blackout, many other occasions where she responded to a bump in the road or a glitch in the plans by turning it into a special event. When somebody met her, or talked with her, she always managed to find the thing about them that was special.. and she never failed to let somebody know that they were unique, and beautiful, and that she valued them for who and what they were.

This is Nana and 'Tiny'. This dog loved her, as did every animal that I have ever witnessed in contact with her, fiercely, and with every ounce of his little heart. I take comfort in the thought that they may be together in the Otherworld now...

On a night out to celebrate a clean bill of health from her doctor, Nana took a spill down a flight of stairs. It was her last curtain call. On Memorial Day weekend of 1990, while painting my aparment, I received a telephone call from a New York City Police Officer who had found my telephone number in my grandmother's address book. He asked me what my relationship to her was, and I told him. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me that she had taken a fall. When I asked how she was doing, he began to backpedal.. explaining that he wasn't a doctor. I talked to him for a few moments, and he finally said "It doesn't look good..." Something icy and small began to flutter at the base of my spine. I called over to the hospital emergency room where she had been taken, and the doctor who I spoke with initially began to distance himself from the situation. I could tell by his accent that he was a Filipino, and I told him that I had spent some time there, and that I had many Filipino friends.. I told him that I knew that family was extremely important to Filipinos, and that I was sure that he understood how important this was to me as well.. He entered the trauma room where she was being coded and quietly explained to me what was taking place.

When the treating doctor called her death, I could hear him over the telephone. I thanked my Filipino friend, hung up the phone, and cried till I was sick. She was gone. For the first time in my life, I was truly, completely, brutally alone. I was heartbroken.

When I visited the funeral home, (the funeral director had been a personal friend of hers), I was allowed to go into the viewing room alone to pay my respects. As I walked up to her casket, I kept my eyes on the wall above her. I didn't want to believe that she was really laying there. Finally, I looked down and saw my Nana's body in the casket. The next thing that I remember, I was lying on the floor looking up at the ceiling. Needless to say, her passing was extremely difficult for me... quite possibly the most difficult and painful event in my entire life.

She always wore armfuls of silver bangles on her wrists... to this day, when I hear the tinkling of silver bangles, my nana is there with me..

Sometimes I dream of her. In my dreams, I tell her that I had been told that she was dead, and I am so happy to see her again. She laughs and tells me that that is nonsense.. those dreams are bittersweet.. I am always so very happy to see her again.. even if it is just a dream... they are also very sad, because I miss her like hell and feel her absence even more strongly for days afterwards. Sometimes, I can still smell her perfume, even after I wake...

I know that she lived a full, happy life, and that she took every bit of enjoyment out of every moment. I know that she went out just the way she would have chosen.. dramatically!

I know that I still can't believe that she is gone...

I also know that she will live on in my heart. I carry her with me each day.

This post is for my Nana. This post is also for you... I want to introduce her to you... tell you about her... let you know that she was alive, and she was real, and she was special. She had music and color in her heart, and she had a voice, and a song.

I once asked her where she learned to dance. She replied, "Learn to dance?! I never had to learn how to dance! I'm a gypsy!!"

Then, in illustration, she got up and began dancing.

That is how I remember my Nana the most... in my heart, she will dance for all eternity...

During her days as a showgirl. She was stunningly beautiful.. on both the outside and the inside..

Happy Birthday, Nana... I miss you terribly... I love you with all my heart.. I pray that your soul is content and happy.. and not a day goes by that I don't think of you.. Walk in Beauty wherever you are...