Annabel Constance Duncan 1917-2009

I've dreaded this day from the very time I knew the first thing about death. Dreaded it, like it was going to be the worst day in the history of the world. And it's a sad occasion, of course. But it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Because nana had a good long life, and her time had come. And I think a lot of us here feel a certain peace about it. Like the end of a good book.

There were many layers to nana. On the outside she was beautiful and poised and kind and attentive, and proper. My boyfriends were always terrified to eat at her house because they knew she would scrutinize their table manners.

But there was so much more to her than that. Nana loved nothing more than a good laugh. She liked to come off as a bit of a prude, but deep down, she wasn't one. And she was a merciless game player. Just because you were small and cute and fluffy didn't mean she wasn't going to eviscerate you. Gleefully.

I remember once when I was about 8, and we were playing scrabble up at a cottage, and she got this gleam in her eye while studying her rack. And very deliberately, on the board, she tacked an S on the end of a word, and continued downward, with H.....I.....T.

Nana was infinitely patient. I don't remember her ever getting angry with me. But that didn't mean she didn't effectively convey disapproval. Nana had this amazing ability to let you know she wasn't impressed by smiling AND laughing! That's a real skill.

And honestly, for a woman of her generation, she really didn't get too worked up about things, she was pretty easy to reason with. But let me tell you, get a bad haircut or gain a few pounds and you wouldn't hear the end of it!

My nana was a perfectionist, and a tireless self-critic. No matter what she cooked or baked, she always thought it was overdone or underdone or dry or burnt...she went through a bunch of different ovens and of course none of them ever worked. It was always the first topic of discussion at mealtime, though we all enjoyed her food immensely.

My brother and I have a ton of fond memories of nana's cooking. She used to make us smashed eggs and jello and oval bran muffins and ginger snaps and homemade mac and cheese with the crumbs on top. There was a lot of love in that food. Which she made in precisely calculated quantities to ensure nobody would ever get more than one serving. It left us in a perpetual state of longing for her food.

My brother especially loved her lemon meringue pie, and she made it special for him one time, and he devoured the crust and filling, saving the best for last--nana's fluffy meringue topping. And in a matter of seconds the table erupted in surprise and commotion, my brother nearly in tears and my nana in gales of laughter--she had forgotten to put the sugar in the meringue. She had a tremendous ability to laugh at herself. And....to forget things.

Even though nana's memory deteriorated rapidly in the last few years, her memory was never her strongest suit. And I am willing to bet that everybody here has been privy to her difficulty getting people's names right off the bat--she'd flip through her mental rolodex--aloud--until she landed on your name. Mine was always BarDebDonBecky.

But she always laughed about it. And once she went home with Donna and the Woodses, though she didn't remember much, she was happy and relaxed and radiant and beautiful. And she laughed a lot. I mean, if you're going to lose your memory, isn't that such a gift? To preserve your ability to lagh and smile and enjoy life? That was nana.

In the six days in between when she had her catastrophic stroke and when she finally let go, I thought about her constantly. One day when I was changing, my daughter was standing alone in my darkened closet and out of the blue she said "Annabel!?!?!?!" She says a girl came into her mind and she was a new grownup with black hair. And I thought yep, if nana were to appear, that's how she would look. Young and fresh and beautiful.

Later that day, I went into my darkened closet alone, hoping she would come to me. And she did, through whatever construct of my mind or imagination. And she said to me "Don't worry BarDebDonBecky. Enjoy your life. OK dear? Bye bye." And that was it...she was always really hurried to end conversations because she was so averse to long distance charges...and I saw her waltz away in my mind. Dancing, like she loved to do. And I really believe that this was her parting message to me. She worried a lot in her life, and at a certain point I guess she stopped. And enjoyed life so much more without it.

When I got that final phone call, I immediately felt like the world was a less sweet place. Like someone had taken the sugar out of the meringue. My nana singlehandedly raised the niceness quotient of the entire world. And I think we have a lot to make up for, as people who had the privilege of knowing her and being loved by her.

We should all strive to be as patient...as kind...as caring....as attentive...and funny...and beautiful...as nana was.