Nana

My grandma died yesterday. Mary Jo Garlich. Nana. Though her name is actually Mary Wilna, everyone called her "Jo" - a nickname she acquired while at beauty school in Minneapolis in 1929. They would do roll call by the girl's last names, and her maiden name of Johanson stuck.

She was 95. My little old Nana.

I am on a plane right now, waiting to take off towards Minnesota, flying courtesy of the "breavement fair." A phrase only to be uttered in hushed tones. The idea of a bereavement fair is somehow very reassuring to me. It maintains my hope for humanity that it is assumed, in this profit-driven world, that if a person's grandma dies she should be able to get on a plane the next day and not pay what everyone else pays. It is understood that this person must be treated kindly and gently. It is understood that it is important for this person to get home soon to be enfoled in the arms of family.

Its kind of nice. Its also not really that cheap, but whatever.

Nana. The kindest, most generous person I have ever known. She once agreed to give my brother Michael her favorite rocking chair, just because he asked for it. He was kidding, of course. She was extremely easy to tease. We used to take turns saying things like "Nana, I think Joanne is hungry." Because she would immediately begin offering my sister Joanne all kinds of snacks. "Oh, Joanne!" It would then be Joanne's job to thoroughly convince Nana that she was in fact very full and didn't think it would be necessary to pop a bag of microwave popcorn. Nana wouldn't rest until she was convinced that everyone within her reach was full, that they knew where in the fridge they could find a pop, and that they were finding something nice to watch on the tv. Then Joanne might say, "Nana I think I heard Michael say that he was thirsty." "Oh, Michael!"

Oh, Nana.

Its sad that I won't get to see her again. Its sad that she's gone, my only grandparent on this continent, but its ok. Its what she wanted. She was old and ready, and sharp until the end. I find myself thinking about weird things, though. What should I wear to the funeral? Maybe blue, 'cause that's her favorite color. Am I going to look stupid when I cry?

Is it weird that I just put a picture of Nana as the wallpaper on my cell phone? A perverse way to honor the dearly departed, but its this amazing picture of her in a little purple mu-mu making one of her "poker faces." Nana has never understood the concept of a poker face, despite being an avid card player, and instead has a series of funny faces that she pulls on command.

Here are Nana's 3 poker faces:
1) puffing her cheeks out
2) squinting one eye and cupping one hand to her ear as if she were an old deaf man
3) flipping her tongue against her lips very quickly

Sometimes she'll throw a new one in there to mix things up. I think I caught a new, never-before-seen pokerface when I snapped that cell phone picture. She is sitting very upright and squinting her eyes and laughing at the same time.

I also think of Nana getting cremated. Is it happening right now? Her soft little body, the one she always joked about being too flabby, consumed in flames and reduced to charred ashes. Is it happenng now?

I think about how I can't for the life of me remember where I put the ring she gave me as a teenager. Her wedding ring. Fused with the engagement ring my grandpa Al, who I never met, gave her in 1939 while she was still working at her beauty shop - Jo's Beauty Shop - in Pipestone, Minnesota. Could I have lost it? I am a horrible person. The first thing I do when I get home will be to search the house until I find it, most precious ring.

Oh, Nana.