BradTaylor

Nan (1924-2011)

Today the woman I’ve known all my life as “Nan” breathed in and then breathed out. For the last time. She had just turned 87.

Nan’s health has been failing for years. There have probably been 10 times we thought she was going to go, and she rallied every time. Except this time.

Since I moved away from Ashland in 1996, I mostly remember a healthy and vibrant Nan, the lady I knew when she babysat me during my childhood. I’ve been overcome by memories from those years, many of which I want to record here mostly for my own sake.

• Faux tuna sandwiches at Steele’s Cafe. I say “faux” because Nan had to tell me they were tuna even though they were actually chicken salad. I didn’t like chicken salad, but I loved tuna. Apparently.
• A classic moment from Nan’s days as a nursery volunteer. Nan had asked the two-year-old pastor’s daughter, to put her shoes on. When she refused, Nan decided to appeal to her spiritual side. “Jesus wants you to obey, Andrea.” Andrea, with a scowl, said, “I hate Jesus.” You’d have to know Nan to understand the true humor of this.
• Sparkly, gold, high-heeled house slippers. Yes, that’s what I said.
• The smell of fish frying in her kitchen. Pops was a master crappie fisherman, and during the summer we would regularly bring home dozens of fish, and Nan would fry them like nobody’s business. Kari and I visited Nan and Pops in Florida just a few years ago, and we caught a bunch of crappie and Nan fried ‘em right up, as delicious as she used to in her prime.
• Crying at Christmas. Whenever there was a special gift shared at Christmas, you could guarantee a quivering lip and a few tears from Nan. She had such a tender heart for Sis and me, and later in life for Braden and Keaton. (There are so many more Christmas/holiday memories I can’t even count them, including the annual rolling of the rolls.)
• What I remember most about Nan, though, is that she taught me an awful lot about Jesus and my faith. When I was 7, Pops was told he’d never walk again. Nan may have been shaken, but she didn’t show it. She just prayed. And prayed some more. And got some other people praying. And before you knew it, Pops was walking again. Mom and Dad explained to me that God was the one who did that, and I decided then I wanted to follow Him. Nan gave God credit for everything, but she didn’t blame Him for anything. Her faith has profoundly shaped my own, and I’ll always be so thankful for that.

My Mom is Nan and Pops’ only child, so Sis and I got them all to ourselves. Growing up in the same town with two of our three living grandparents was a special treat, too, one that I really see the benefit of now that our boys live relatively far from all four of their grandparents. Her life was a gift to many, but especially to us.

I love you, Nan. And I miss you. But I won’t miss you forever. I’ll see you again.