corny, right?
suave and sophisticated in the field of romance, i was not.
at the impossibly young age of 22, i told kevin we were meant to be "special friends" upon learning his birthday was january 26th.
ugh. what a dork.
[january 26th is the anniversary of my kidney transplant.]
it's been a recurring coincidence within our relationship.
both of our fathers were born on march 8th. his mother and my aunt, t, were born on january 7th, and then there's january 26th.
his birth and my rebirth.
we recently climbed into bed and popped in "valentine's day". how a film with 6 academy award winners/nominees could be such a piece of crap is astounding. and testament to the relevance of an academy award. or the direction of garry marshall. or both.
but, like, i totally, digress.
what is the significance of this date? really?
today, was october 18th, 2010.
because of overcast conditions, hubby was able to join with on another magical adventure down to cedars-sinai medical centre...
our post-cedars ritual usually includes stuffing face at "the soup plantation" and then working off cals. by strolling thru loehmann's:men's store in the beverly connection.
today was different.
today, nannie passed away.
phyllis may scott. kevin's nannie. the mcintyres' nannie. my nannie.
it was expected. it was peaceful. but, suddenly our spheres ceased to spin.
[pause. and reboot.]
let me tell you about nannie.
she was my husband's grandmother on his mother's side.
she was always immaculate in makeup and dress. (a gal after my own heart).
she would palm kevin $50's in a beautiful, heartfelt attempt to ease our financial strain.
she made the best egg salad i have ever tasted.
she kept our gift of a "JOY" christmas pillow out all year long. just because we gave it to her.
and she loved her family beyond comprehension.
her complete joy lay in their happiness and successes. not old school; just immaculate in her focus. relationships are everything. and nannie had her priorities straight.
i was not blood related, but nannie never let my birthday pass without a handwritten card and a monetary gift. ever. in 19 years. she accepted me, no, embraced me as family from the get-go.
how lucky am i? and how amazing was she?
nannie. i will miss you.
i will miss our egg salad luncheons.
i will miss your cozy apartment where that pillow lay.
and i will miss your quiet, gentle goodness. the familial love that emanated from from you at all times.
and now that i have that "JOY" pillow in my home. i will have it out all year long. and i will always think of you.
i love you, nannie.
egg salad will never, ever be the same.
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