10 life lessons I learned from my grandmother

1. Never let another person dictate how you feel.

I remember several times when my grandmother, Nanny, was spoken to roughly and harshly. Raised voices, undeserved criticism, and cruel words meant to hurt were hurled at her, a scenario that would make many others cry, but not Nanny. She would ignore him, smile, and then offer the other party a cup of tea. She taught me that your feelings are your own and it’s your choice to allow others to create or change them, so she just chooses not to.

2. It’s always a good time to have a good time

I can’t remember a time when I was ever near Nanny and she wasn’t smiling. In 15 years of living under the same roof and countless interactions since then, I have never had a frown on my face for her. However, more than happiness, it was a lot of fun to be with her. Whether it’s dancing in the aisles of an Elvis Presley impersonators concert, watching cute boys, or attending a musical, Nanny showed me that with the right company and the right attitude, everything is fun. I will miss her cheeky smile when I knew I was up to her shenanigans but I will continue to keep her legacy alive by trying to have as much fun with others as I did with her and I will strive to be as much fun to be around. her. also.

3. Never underestimate the impact of a small gesture

It was 2009 and I was in a dark, very dark place. I was hospitalized and had a particularly difficult time. I remember the nurse came in and gave me a Millie’s cupcake, my absolute favorite. She had told me that my grandmother had come to give it to me and so I asked her where my grandmother was to thank her. After all, the hospital was an hour and a half by train from her house, and at that point, Nanny was walking with a cane. It was a great effort for her to come here to see me. Informed that she had left, I called Nanny.

“Nana, where are you?”

“I’m on my way home dear. I came to drop off your favorite cupcake because your dad told me you weren’t well. I left because I didn’t want to bother you. I hope you feel better soon.”

Needless to say, with every bite of that cupcake I felt better and that act of kindness is one of the most cherished of the many lovely memories I have of Nanny.

4. A simple phone call is all it takes to show someone you care.

There’s nothing worse than being wrapped up in a warm duvet in a cozy bed when you’re sick and then having to get up and run downstairs to answer the phone call before it reaches voicemail. Unless, of course, the phone call is from Nanny.

“Hey honey, your dad told me you have a cold. I was just calling to see how you’re doing.”

Prayed

“Hi Mariya, your dad told me you didn’t sleep very well, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Every time he was sick, without fail, he would get a phone call. Every time I get sick, I will hear that phone call in my head and remember the healing feeling of knowing that someone cares so much about you, knowing that they always will.

5. Make the most of life

Nanny’s father, my great-grandfather, Albert, fought for England in both wars. During the Great War, his knee was hit by shrapnel, causing him to limp. In the second, the nerve gas left him with a chronic cough for the rest of his life. Nanny was 9 years old when she finished the war and she often told me how she was sent to the countryside during the war to keep her safe. I think witnessing the war gave Nanny an appreciation of her life that she carried with her and she lived through the rest of her time here. Always looking on the positive side, enjoying her every moment, pampering herself and selflessly dedicating herself to her loved ones is how I will always remember her and how I aspire to live. There was a ray of light in every cloud for her and every time she got mad at me, she told me “never mind. You can’t go back and change the past.” She would just move on, forgive, forget, and be happy.

Along with life, Nanny had a refreshing view of death. “When I’m gone, Mariya, I’ll come back and chase you. I’ll turn on all the lights and scare you!” After her death, the lights in the house flickered daily for more than a week. I smiled and said, “Hello, babysitter.”

A couple of Christmases ago, Nanny gave me a pendant with a beautiful poem on it. I read it and said, “Nanny, you’re not dead yet!” Whereupon, my mother scolded me. Now, I’m going to make a plaque for her grave with the poem she gave me and I wear the necklace all the time.

It reads:

“The ones we love don’t leave,
They walk by our side every day.
Invisible, inaudible, but always near,
Still loved, still missed and always wanted.”

6. Always be proud of your appearance

I look at many of my peers and their relationships with their grandmothers and realize how incredibly lucky I am to have had the relationship with Nanny that I did. While other grandmothers had gray hair for years, my nanny was experimenting with her hair color. Red, light brown, auburn, blonde, Nanny was always ready to change. We had mani-pedis together, haircuts, shopping trips… I felt like I was with my best friend and not my grandmother, but then Nanny fulfilled those two roles. Her hair was always done, her nails were always painted and she always had her red and red lipstick on. She was confident and beautiful, to her last breath and beyond.

7. Leave voicemail

Since caller ID, voicemail has become a thing of the past.

When I got home the day Nanny passed away, there were new messages on the machine. People had found out and called to offer their condolences. 38 publications, some old and some new. An alert told us that there was only 2 minutes of recording time left and that we would have to delete some of the messages, after all, we were sure that many more people would call and they did.

Message after message was from Nanny.

“Hi, I’m just calling to see how you are.”

“Hello Mariya, can you call me back please dear? Thank you.”

“It’s good to hear Mariya’s voice on the machine, I miss her, I love her heart.”

And my latest favourite:

“Hello. Guess who?”

It’s so comforting to know that I have Nanny’s voice recorded to keep forever and can listen to it whenever I want. Each message reflects her personality, loving, kind, thoughtful, funny, mischievous… and every time I hear it, I feel like I’m talking to her again. So from now on, no more missed calls, I’m going to leave a message.

8. Pets enrich your life

Nanny loved cats and surprise surprise, so did I. We grew up with Leo and then with Tommy, the first an orange cat and the second a black and white cat. I have so many good memories with them, petting them and playing with them. I decided a long time ago to have a cat when I have my own house and children of my own, so that they too can learn how comforting and fun a pet can be. Both of our next door neighbors have cats and every time I pet them I am reminded of my childhood and many memories with Nanny’s cats.

9. There is nothing better than the written word

I remember my dad came home one day and told me that Nanny had given me a card. That’s weird, I thought. It wasn’t my birthday and it wasn’t Christmas, the two times I would invariably get a card from Nanny. Puzzled, I opened the card.

“Dear Maria,

I just wanted to tell you that I love you and that I will always be here for you. I hope you have a happy life and that all your dreams come true.

Many hugs and kisses,

babysitter xxx”

All these years later, I still have this card in my memory box.

10. Life is sweet

At the end of each meal, Nanny would say “What’s sweet?” No meal could go without dessert. The last time I saw Nanny, a week before she passed away, my brother and I had taken her to lunch.
“Where do you want to go for lunch, Nanny?”

“That place with the good sweets!”

My brother tried, in vain, to convince her otherwise. The restaurant was 10 minutes from our house and half an hour from Nanny. It meant that she had to drive all the way back to the restaurant, then all the way back to drop off Nanny and drive home again… another hour of driving. Nanny was adamant: she wanted that dessert!

We ordered Nanny’s usual, a lamb burger with no bun and we had our burgers.

“I can’t eat any more,” said Nanny halfway through her lamb.

My brother and I finished eating, we looked at each other and gave each other that mischievous smile that we both learned from Nanny.

“Okay, let’s go home Nanny. If we leave now we can avoid the traffic, otherwise we’ll be at rush hour.”

“But what about dessert?”

“Nana, you said you were full.”

With her finger, Nanny traced a small circle on her belly and said, “I left a little room for dessert, right there!”

Nanny finished an ice cream meant to be shared by 2 or 3 people, so I guess the space she saved wasn’t as small as she said it was.

My brother and I have inherited his sweet tooth, much to the dismay of our future cardiologists, I’m sure. However, Nanny taught us to always make room for the things you love.