Kim Priore

I know it’s been a month, and my grace period of being “The Bereaved” is coming to an end…I know this is the point when people start to expect you to suck it up and move on, to not require the extra attention, to just be normal again.  (A special shout-out here to my friends that recognize that 1, I’ve never been normal, and 2, I just need a little more time to process things in my way.  So anyways, I realized I never did this, I wanted to post the remarks I made at my Nana’s funeral, just for those of you who knew her, and for those of you who didn’t, maybe you can have just a glimpse of why this special person leaves such a big gaping hole in my heart and my life.  So here it is:

My job this morning is to give some words of remembrance for my Nana Phyllis.  So I thought that I would do just that, that I would offer some words that come to mind when I think of Nana.

 

The first is Imagination.  When we were little, my brother and I loved going to Nana’s house because it always meant playing games.  We played school, office, hair salon, had tea parties, and drank ginger ale from goblets pretending it was champagne.  These games were never treated as frivolous, or as something we did in the other room while she tended to more important matters.  Nana was right in the thick of our fantasies with us.  Nana’s house was a place of imagination, where we could be whoever we wanted and go wherever we wanted and where we learned how to dream.

 

The next word is Curiosity.  Nana had an insatiable curiosity about the world around her.  She loved to read the papers that Doug and I wrote in college.  She would pour over every photograph we brought back from a trip, asking a million questions.  She taught us how to be inquisitive, and not to be ashamed of what we didn’t know, because there was never any harm in asking.

 

Music: of course, the music.  I’ll always remember sitting beside her playing our duet of ‘Chopsticks,’ or hearing her play “You’re a Grand Ole Flag” and finish with a big flourish.  She’d often say she could hear the music in her head and while she wasn’t gifted with a singing voice, she’d try and squeak it out anyway to let you know what song she was talking about.

 

Affection – Nana was always affectionate to those around her, whether it was her coworkers, family, or friends.  We joke about how she always came up with nicknames for our friends:

Nancy with the Pretty Hair, Little Shanny, My Josh, or of course my old boyfriend Ryan, who she always called Kevin, because he looked like a Kevin.

 

Independence.  Nana prized her independence, it’s why she loved her car so much, it gave her the freedom she always wanted.  And she was never anxious for me to have a boyfriend, never urged me to get married the way some grandmothers might, and for most of my life she modeled for me the role of an independent, capable career woman.  For her generation that was somewhat revolutionary, and to have her as a role model taught me to value myself for who I am, not just what I can be to someone else.  Although I still wouldn’t mind having a boyfriend.

 

Pride.  Nana was proud of being an American, proud of being from

Natick, proud to be a part of the Congregational Church.  And she took tremendous pride in her family.  Her example taught us to value where we came from and who we are. 

 

Life.  She loved bright colors, energetic music, she had no use for anything “draggy” or dark or dismal.  She knew how to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment out of the smallest things, whether it was a meal (“Are you gonna eat that?”) or simply watching my brother wash the car. 

 

One word that doesn’t make sense in the context of my grandmother is Goodbye.  Toward the end of her life when I would visit Nana in the nursing home, when it was time for me to leave, she would say “I’m not gonna watch you out of sight.”  Because it made her too sad to see me go.  And that’s how I feel today.  So I’m not gonna watch you out of sight, Nana, I’m going to remember you as you were, sitting by your piano or enjoying a cocktail at our Christmas gatherings with the VanTassels.  And I know that your imagination, curiosity, affection, pride, and love of music and life will stay with me always.  And I hope I can continue to make you proud.

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