Today, my Nana would have been 95 years old, and to say our family looks the same as it once did would be far from the truth. Nana wasn’t just my grandmother — she was my best friend, a second mom, and the strongest, most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. I am so much like her: opinionated, loud, passionate. What people don’t always know is why I say I was the lucky one. I got to see her almost every day for most of my life, and that time shaped who I am in ways I still feel every single day.
When I was in third grade, they bought the lot at the end of my road. While they were building, they lived in a rental down the hill on the water. Nana liked that house, but she never loved it the way she loved the farm. Still, I was thrilled when Grandpa got into a fight with the marina in Kingston over the boat slip moorage — because it meant they moved closer to me. Even then, I knew how lucky I was.
I always kept Nana on her toes. Once at the ocean, I tried to save a duck and carried it across the highway into the woods. I was gone for hours, wearing someone else’s too-small shoes and earning blisters — and when I came back, I earned a spanking too. The same thing happened back at the farm when I went searching for Toby after he ran into the woods. I didn’t find him, but I did find my way to Billy Moon’s house, and his mom Judy called Nana to let her know I’d made it through the woods safely. That earned me another spanking. I may have been her grandchild, but she raised me like one of her own.
She was strict when she needed to be, but every day when I got off the bus, I knew I could swing by her house and find cookies or some kind of snack waiting for me. I’ll admit, I didn’t like sharing her. When my cousins came to stay for weeks in the summer, I got jealous. Being an only child, it was something I struggled with then — and honestly, at times I still do now. When my auntie Lisa, had her two babies I was in Jr high and high school and I thought it was the best thing, stopping by Nana's afterschool even when I started driving was even more important because I got to see the babies and man did I love those babies. 
I was close to her parents too, because I got to go with her to visit them so often. I could listen to her stories for hours — her voice, her laugh — and even now, that’s what I ache to hear the most. Friday nights were for bowling, and when she helped me get my driver’s license in Port Townsend, we stopped at the Chimacum Café for pie. I told her we should’ve just gone home for one of her apple pies instead, complete with a slice of cheddar cheese on top — which I still think is disgusting.
After I got my license, I’d meet her at Eagles on Saturday nights, line dancing with her and watching her and Grandpa light up the dance floor. They were incredible together. We had our disagreements, too — the last big one being that she didn’t think me having the boys was a good idea. That changed the moment they were born was born and when she held Francis for the first time. The bond was instant. She could make him laugh from deep in his belly like no one else, and always could get him to sleep. And when she told me that having Brock was one of the best things that ever happened to her — that he showed her how perfection doesn’t mean flawless —but he was our perfect.
For almost eleven years now, I’ve lived without half my heart. They say it gets better, but that’s not true. I still wonder every day if I’m making her proud. I know she’s watching over us. I wish she were here to see my boys growing up, to see my cousin’s two blonde, blue-eyed babies — with another on the way — and my other cousin’s three kids. She would brag endlessly about having two sets of twin great-grandbabies. All in all right now she has twelve and a half great grand babies that I am sure she is looking after from Heaven.
What I wouldn’t give to be planning a big birthday party for her today, or getting ready for another Christmas Eve where she and my Great Uncle Marley would have one of their legendary arguments — only to forgive each other a day later because love always won. So many times over the last eleven years, I’ve picked up the phone to call her — to tell her about my day, my worries, or to ask how many cups of this or that a recipe really needs. I miss the way our family came together under one roof, because when Nana told you to be there, you didn’t say no.
