Baby Sister

If you looked at my sister's Facebook page, it would be easy to see the type of person she was, the things that were near and dear to her heart, her humor, her sentimental spirit, and most of all, her ever-present glimmer of hope.  I've been perusing her Facebook page on and off ever since she passed on Monday night and I can't help but feel that I wished I'd looked at it more before then.  Though I felt like I already knew her before, and I did, the things she posted there, oftentimes simple little memes or GIF's about animals, the good old days, family, and lots more completed the three-dimensional image that was her essence.

I don't know if anyone can prepare themselves for the loss of a child, or in my particular case, a sibling  No matter how often or how little you interact with one another, there is a bond that exists with an immediate family member because you've been a constant in one another's lives since the beginning.  I am the eldest of six siblings, and Chrissy was the baby.  I remember the night she was born, mom and dad off in the hospital and the rest of us sleepless at home with nana and grandpa babysitting, waiting for the news of whether the new baby would be a boy or a girl. Having only one brother and three sisters, I was praying for the former.  Nonetheless, when nana woke us up in the morning to tell us we had a new sister, how could any of us not still be excited?

Chrissy's first day of school

Back in those days, my family struggled financially, and not long after Christine was born, mom had to go back to work at McCrory's in the mall a few nights a week.  I, as the oldest at 13, was relegated to chief babysitter.  I changed Chrissy's diapers, prepared her bottles and fed her, and I played with her, put her to sleep, and kept her occupied all the while keeping the other foot soldiers in line until daddy came home.  This lasted a couple of years until dear Aunt Vi came to mine, and Chrissy's rescue.

Though Aunt Vi loved us all, everyone always knew that Chrissy was the apple of her eye.  Whereas Aunt Vi saved me from my job as chief, cook, and bottle washer, Chrissy saved her from the despair of being newly widowed.  My sister gave her purpose, and a companion, and the two of them spent the next few years doing homework together, playing cards, and Aunt Vi spending all of her money buying Mister Softee for all of her friends on hot summer nights.  It was one of the happiest times in my aunt's life.  The two of them were the infamous frick and frack for those formative years of my sister's life, and her passing a little over ten years ago left a hole in Chrissy's heart for the rest of her days.  One of the only comforts of this week for us is knowing that the two of them are probably playing gin rummy once again.

Dave, Chrissy and I

Sadly in the years since Christine was little she and I were never really too close again, as I went off into my adulthood and she remained a still home-bound youngster now becoming one of 'the girls.'  Though my sisters were never always bosom buddies, they did share a bond that remained throughout the years, and Chrissy, the baby, was always an integral character in that mix. 

Snapchat silliness with Gina

Throughout her adult life, my sister Christine would become a beautiful young woman, with a smile that could light up a room and small circle of really good friends who to this day would have done anything for her.  Unfortunately, not all of her friends were a positive influence.  My sister was also a very trusting person, and despite all of her attributes, she had a low self-image and a trusting nature that gave in to most anyone who paid her any attention.

For the past twenty-plus years, Chrissy's life somewhat resembled that of a pinball machine.  She moved around from place to place, spending time in both Kentucky and Florida, dodging her troubles whenever she could.  We all had our own periods of frustration with her and would sometimes lose contact, but her devotion to her family would never let that last too long.  Despite all of her troubles, we all still loved her.  Every last one of us!

Whenever Christine would be away, she always harbored a longing to return to New York, her home, and her family.  I remember most recently, when she was in Florida, that she spoke of returning for months before she actually did, and once she came back, my mom had no choice but to give her some tough love, having her try and make it on her own and alleviate her problems once and for all before she could come back into the house.  I think that we would all agree that in the last few months, she did her best.

Despite all of her own misgivings about herself, Christine was always an optimist, as anyone could plainly see from her Facebook postings.  This past holiday season was especially hopeful, as she worked hard at mending both herself and her relationships with others.  She and I had been communicating often lately, and had been making plans to do things together.  The day after Christmas, she sent me these texts:

I had a great time at your house. Thank you for being so welcoming.  I'm trying to be a better person and I appreciate my family's effort.  I feel truly blessed this holiday season.  

I told her to keep doing what she was doing and sent her a virtual hug.

Thanks John.  You always make me feel hopeful.  I love being around you.  I want to make myself proud and secondly my family.  That's why I'm doing therapy.  I'm done doing negative and I want to be surrounded with positive people.  I love you and I'm sorry I neglected you and the rest of the family.  I'm trying to make it up to everyone.  

We had a couple of more conversations like that in the days after, and during the last one we had, a week ago today, we made plans to go to breakfast on Saturday so she could meet Vinny.  She said she was looking forward to that.  So was I.  Four days later, she was gone.

I can't tell you how much it hurt to have lost her.  I don't think that in my 55 years of life on this Earth that I've ever felt this sad.  I am proud of my sister for being the person she was, for her optimism, for her humor, for her loving spirit.  I'm not going to say goodbye to her because she will live on in my heart for the rest of my days.  I will always remember her smile, her voice, and most of all her unconditional love for me and mom, David, Linda, Ann Marie, Rhiana, and Gina.  And who knows, maybe she'll use her newfound powers to help the Yankees win the World Series this year!  Rest in peace baby sister!

         

     

A Year's Remembrance

I could never say enough, Owner, dearest friend, to thank you for the love you gave to me, until the end.

I’m sorry that I hurt you by saying my goodbye. You gave me such a happy home, I lived a happy life. I leapt and played and laughed in ways you maybe couldn’t see. Of all the pets you might have loved, I’m glad that you chose me.

It’s okay to miss me, for I miss you too.

It’s okay to bow your head and cry if you have to.

However hard it seems today, your dear sweet heart will heal.

For now, my friend, remember me and feel what you must feel. But don’t give up on loving, Owner, dearest friend. Although the cost is oh so high, it’s worth it in the end — to know that you made this pet’s life the best one it could be. It should be no mystery why you meant the world to me.

So here’s my final word, my friend, this is my last wish: Find another lonely pet, then give to them my dish. And every time they make you smile, know that I’m smiling too, still so proud to once have been a dearest friend to you.

Love, always.”

A year ago this morning, I was awoken to one of the most terrible phone calls of my life.  My little Diego, who had been in the hospital for three days, was under cardiac arrest, and the vet was calling to see if I wanted them to revive him.  Before I could even process what they were saying to me, I heard the woman on the other line say, as clear as day...

Oh, I'm so sorry.  He just passed.  

He was barely nine years old.  It was a snowy morning, one that I will never forget.  As with the passing of any loved one, I mourned the loss of my cute little fluffy monster, and I watched with great heartbreak the broken heart of Dylan, the brother who he'd left behind.  For months, Dylanito was so sad, and every interaction with him only made me feel sadder for myself, and even more so for him.  As they say, time heals all wounds, and this is very true.  Though it took awhile, Dylan and I have both healed from Diego's loss.  I eventually got used to having only one little kitty around the house, and he got used to being the only kitty around.

I sometimes wonder if Dylan even remembers Diego.  I have no idea how a cat's mind works.  Every once in awhile I'll say his name aloud to see if there's any recognition in my little, eleven-toed panther, but there is none.  That's a good thing, I guess.  He's definitely been over his mourning period for months now, and that helped me get out of mine...but I will always remember my sweet little sunshine.  

A few weeks after Diego had passed, my mother sent me the following poem above.  In times of sadness, it brought out the tears that helped release the pain.  I wanted to share it here in case any pet owner out there has the need to hear it too.  

It's hard to believe it's been a year already.  I haven't thought much of him lately, but Diego will be in my mind all day today, and Dylan will get a little extra loving, too!    Here's the recitation of the poem, Owner, Dearest Friend, by Vivian Matthews:

Diego

I've just spent the better part of the last two and a half days crying, and the floodgate of tears came to an ebb at 7:17 yesterday morning.  I sit here, 24 hours later, still in disbelief.  Diego, my little fluffy monster lost his life.  He was only nine years old.

There are so many things related to this death that make it so hard to deal with.  He'd been sick for several months now with diabetes, but he was doing well lately...really well.  Yet it was his disease that ultimately killed him.  Of course, any death comes with grief, and especially when it's someone or some animal who has been around, living with you all the time.  A pet is a part of your family, and since I have no partner and no children, he and Dylan were...are...my family.

Mourning Diego is not my only issue today and going forward because I'm not the only one mourning.  Dylan and Diego have been together since day one.  Though they look nothing alike, they are brothers from the same litter.  The only thing they shared physically was the fact that they both have extra digits...Hemingway cats.  These two spent every waking moment together, cuddling, playing, fighting, eating, and whatnot.  From the moment I came home after leaving Diego at the animal hospital on Tuesday night, Dylan has been sad.  His buddy's missing.

Wednesday was a roller coaster day.  I received both good reports and bad ones about Diego's progress, but I believed throughout that he was coming home.  I went to sleep that night happily imagining the reunion of those two.  What a sight that would have been!  Unfortunately, that reunion was never meant to be, and I can only hope that poor Dylan comes to accept that his brother won't be back.

At the moment, I can't have any interaction with my other baby, my lil panther, without crying.  He and I have an intimate connection, and somehow I know he knows that his brother is gone and he is sad.  I caught him laying in the cat carrier late Wednesday night, lying on the towel that Diego had laid on last Saturday on his last trip to the vet.  At feeding time, when I call him to come eat, he runs into the kitchen looking around for his little buddy.  And during the night, in bed, where the three of us always slept together, Dylan is restless, constantly looking over the side of the bed for his brother to come up and join us.  My heart breaks for Dylan, as well.

  

I adopted Diego and Dylan when they were just about eight weeks old, back in April of 2008. Though I'd said that I would never again have a pet after my first cat, Spike, passed about six months prior, I'd been newly single and I wanted one to call my very own, only before beginning my search for them, I had already decided that I wanted two cats.  Spike had been the only one for sixteen years and I always felt bad for him because he always seemed lonely.  At least with these two, I knew they wouldn't be lonely whenever I wasn't around.  And it didn't take long for me to find these two...

From the start Dylan and Diego brought great joy into my life, as pets do, and for the last nine years these two brothers have had their fair share of playful moments, getting into mischief, and just plain adoreable-ness!  They've been all I've had for a family in all of these years I've been alone and I'm grateful for both of them.    

Feline Diabetes

A few months back, around September, Diego had started to lose a lot of weight and hair along his spine.  Admittedly, I hadn't noticed the severity of either condition until my friend Bobby pointed it out to me.  When you're present around someone or animal all the time you tend not to notice such things.  I rushed him to the vet as soon as I realized this was serious.  The vet had to run some tests on Diego, and she told me that it was either a thyroid condition, diabetes, or something else...I don't remember at this point, only that she told me to hope for the thyroid because it was the easiest to take care of.

The next morning, I got a call saying that Diego did indeed have diabetes.  Apparently diabetes has become very common in both cats and dogs these days, and although the treatment...insulin shots every 12 hours...seems like a big commitment to make, I loved Diego and I was readily willing to take it on.  The doctor assured me it would eventually become easy, and it did... maybe too easy.

Diabetes is a serious condition in humans, and in animals.  It killed my father after torturing him for years with its many side effects, yet I'm not so sure if I ever took it as seriously with Diego because it became so easy to take care of and the insulin shots seemed to have brought him back to normal in just a couple of months.  I became complacent, and even thought about him dropping down to one shot a day instead of two while I was away on a planned trip in a couple of weeks, just so that my friends wouldn't have to deal with coming here twice a day.  I realize now that would have been stupid!  So, for any of you dog or cat owners out there who's beloved pet gets diagnosed with diabetes, all I can say is take it seriously, and never ever forget that without the proper care, terrible things can happen.      

So, I sit here with a heavy heart, but I know with time it will get better, for both Dylan and for I.  But it'll be a long, long time...maybe forever, that I will be missing the purrs and the unconditional love bestowed upon me by my beautiful, gentle little Diego.  I apologize for so many pictures, but even though I am prejudiced, I think he was one of God's most beautiful creatures.  Don't you agree?  Rest in peace baby!

   

Circling the Wagons

Yesterday, we circled the wagons.  Not only my pals Blanche, Eddie and I, but neighbors, friends, cousins, nieces and nephews, brother in-laws, grandchildren, and virtually anyone else who was attached in some way to the family, all circled the wagons.  Most of us know the routine, someone passes, there's a wake and a funeral and all of the sympathies and condolences one could make.  It's one of those things in life you just have to go through, sadly, every once in awhile.

For the three of us, it was personal.  It was family.  Last Sunday Rich's dad, Francois, passed away suddenly after a long, long illness. For him it was an inevitable and somewhat merciful ending to a long bout of suffering.  For Rich and his family, it was the mournful loss of someone very special. And so we circled the wagons.

I've only gotten to know Francois, the nickname given to his dad by his son and my pal Dita (his real name was Francis) really well the past six or seven years or so, since the time of my breakup with Joe and the time Rich became a much bigger part of my life. I consider myself fortunate to have gotten to know both he and his wife, Flo, the way that I have.  A couple of years back I visited their house down in Virginia during a roller coaster trip and the experience was so moving to me that I blogged about it soon after I had gotten home (check out A Weekend of Memories at Flo and Francois').

Through them, it's easy to understand how Rich is such the good person, and friend, that he is.  He's developed in his own life the perfect combination of his parents' greatest attributes.  That is, he inherited his mother's kindness and caring and his father's impeccable sense of humor.  That being said, all three of us would have circled the wagons for him because he is our friend, our family, but Francois (and Flo) are special enough to us to warrant our presence all on their own.

This was something I'd already known, but it was nonetheless heartwarming to see the outpouring of love and admiration for Francis.  He was a lucky guy, but it was obvious to see that he got back just a tiny bit of what he gave.

Frank was the father of two sons, Kenny and Rich, and a daughter Cathy, the grandfather of four granddaughters, Erin,, Ellyse, Ashley and Laura, and the great-grandfather of little Jake and even littler Charlotte.  He had a large family of nieces and nephews, in-laws and friends, and everyone seemed to have the utmost admiration for him, and that was due to no only the kindness and devotion he showered upon his family, but his comedic wit, as well.  Some of the greatest laughs I've shared with Rich over the years have had to do with something his dad either said or did to elicit laughter. Even up until late in his life he was putting out his famously hysterical one-liners.

Francois was also a Navy man in his younger days and was given military honors at his service yesterday.  It was a fitting ending to a week-long mourning period and an honorable tribute to one of God's great works.  I only hope that my own legacy will be as heartwarming and loving as his.      

Really, circling the wagons is what you do when you lose one of your own, and through our friend Rich, his dad and his mom are one of our own.  Being there for them never warranted a second thought for any of us, and the three of us, and all the rest of those who came from far and wide to pay their respects to Francois, will circle the wagons even further in the days and weeks to come.  Rest in peace Francois...you will live on...

 

          

A Sobering Reminder from a Hot Sexy Goddess

It is with a troubled and heavy heart that I write this post.  It's one of the types of posts I hate to write, yet always seem to find therapeutic.  Early this morning, at school, my classroom phone rang.  It was my buddy Laura Kim...

Did you see the email about Rita?

I hadn't, but before I could even answer her, I was given the saddest of news.  Rita, a colleague and onetime friend of mine had passed away.  I'm not exactly sure how old she was, but she was young... several years younger than me, and way to young to die.

Since that phone call this morning, a myriad of memories have washed all over me.  Rita and I have a storied past.  At one time, I considered her one of my good friends. and we shared many good times together.  But then one day, just about three years ago, a rift opened up between us over nothing really, and our friendship evolved into awkward run-ins at first and then eventually total nothingness. Now that she's gone, I can't...I don't...regret anything that ever happened between us.  I just can't help but feel immense sorrow for her losing her life, especially at such a young age.  Her death is a shock, and serves as yet another reminder that life is such a precious thing and it need not be wasted on things that don't really matter.

I first met Rita, whom I eventually came to call 'Reet,' several years ago.  She was an elementary school speech pathologist and she'd been tasked with working with a student of mine in the 7th grade. She was looking for a space to work with him and none of the teachers in my school would allow her in their classrooms.  Then one day she knocked on my door, and of course I invited her in.

It was really nice having another adult in the room for a change.  Working as a teacher is like being on an island, and so having her there gave me someone to talk to.  Soon enough she and I became fast friends and for about three to four years Reet and I shared lots of good times together.  I remember when we first exchanged phone numbers, she put hers into my phone and called herself "Rita, the Hot Sexy Goddess,' lol.  That name and number is still on my phone.

Rita was one of those people I felt comfortable sharing all of myself with from the get-go.  I believe that the first time she and I went out together socially, I told her that I was gay.  As things turned out, perhaps that part of me was partially to blame for our eventual rift.  Over time I'd learned how she viewed homosexuality and felt that maybe I was more of a novelty to her and not looked upon as being 'normal.'

I have to give her credit, though.  During the times we spent together, she met all of my friends and she even went to Cherry Grove with us on Labor Day, as well as clubbing with me in the city.  I remember her being nervous about going to the Grove out of fear that she was going to get hit on, but she persevered and went and I'd like to think that day was one of the best days she ever had.  Every photo of her that day shows a great big genuine smile.

         

Three years ago, a misunderstanding between us lead us to drift apart, and eventually we just stopped speaking to one another.  We never had an argument, but we're both stubborn Italians and neither one of us made the effort to reconcile, sadly.  The following school year, she took a leave of absence and ended communication with most of us at school.  No one ever really knew what was going on with her...until this morning.  

So for what it's worth Rita, you Hot Sexy Goddess, you, I hope you have found peace.  I thank you for your friendship and I promise to hold on to the good times and let go of the bad from this day forward.  And I also want to say thanks for the reminder that life is so precious, and that we all need to make the most of the time we have here, for every day that we wake up we are lucky.

Somebody to Love - R.I.P. Freddie Mercury 11/24/91

I work hard every day of my life

I work till I ache my bones

At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own

I get down on my knees

And I start to pray

Till the tears run down from my eyes

Lord, somebody, ooh, somebody

Can anybody find me, somebody to love?

Somewhere along my day today I came across a posting that marked the 23rd anniversary of the death of Queen lead singer Freddie Mercury, and had I known earlier I would've given him a Song of the Day tribute, for sure.  Rather than wait until tomorrow, though, I figured I'd mark the day...the real day...to honor someone who left us way too soon.

biography

A couple of weeks ago I posted a Flashback Friday song of Freddie and Queen with David Bowie doing Under Pressure, a great, great tune. In my search for the video, I came across a video of Queen, sans Bowie, performing the song at Wembley and Mercury played with the audience for about two minutes in his own unique way, yodeling melodies that the crowd would repeat back to him. They were eating it up and for those two minutes Freddie Mercury's greatness shone through.     

taringa

Queen is one rock band that I've always loved, from the early days of the great Bohemian Rhapsody to Another One Bites the Dust, Fat Bottomed Girls, Radio Gaga (from which Lady got her name!), and so many more.  To look back 23 years ago and think of all they might have added to their catalog had he not lost his battle with the now very manageable AIDS.  Anyway, for what it's worth, here's to you Freddie Mercury!

  

Auto-Correcting Myself?

Do you ever talk to anybody about your depression?

That was my friend Frank earlier tonight, via Facebook messenger.  It was a private message to me, but it may as well have been a public one.  His words were in response to a new profile picture I had posted earlier today...the one you see above, which was actually taken two years ago.  I posted it simply because I wanted a change from my old picture, and there aren't any new ones I've taken lately, so voila.  Only what I hadn't realized was that the look of the picture reflected the mood, or the aura, that's been surrounding me lately, especially tonight, in this moment, and maybe I unknowingly put it up there for a reason.  

There was another friend of mine who commented on the same picture earlier than Frank.  He said that he didn't like it, that the look on my face wasn't a happy one like so many of the others I've put up in the past.  Well, now that it's there and I realize it sends a message I want to send, I am going to leave it until whatever dark cloud that permeates my aura and my mind goes away.

Maybe I am depressed.  Feeling sorry for myself?  Not really this time around.  I've just been questioning life in general a lot lately, especially after the deaths of two young people I was somewhat connected to, both just yesterday, and for no apparent purpose.  I think I've lost faith, faith in the world, faith in a Higher Being, faith in my fellow man, faith that doing good will get you good. 

When things are going bad, every little thing exacerbates the problems.  There've been a lot of things in my life lately that have done just that, and I don't know how to fix them and so I feel somewhat hopeless.  I feel stagnant, stuck in the mud I know I've partially created and not knowing how or not seeing any way out of it.  And the mud permeates every facet of my life, from work to home to my relationships with friends and family and my lack of finding my other half.  

Yes, it sucks, but I'm not putting this out there for anyone to feel sorry for me.  Writing is actually therapy for me, and even though I leave myself vulnerable by doing this, maybe someone out there will read this and know they're not the only ones feeling these feelings, and that's a good thing!  

I think subliminally I posted that picture because I've been thinking of taking a total break from Facebook and other so-called "social media," and the picture in a way shows my disdain for this so-called reality that is not all that real.  Ever since I posted that video on "Auto-Correcting Humanity" the other day (which, by the way I shared with my students), I've been doing a lot of thinking on the subject.  

The problems with humanity today that are discussed in the video are all very real and sadly very widespread throughout our society.  People don't relate to one another in personal ways like they used to, but relate instead to that tiny little thingamajig in their hand rather than the person right in front of them. 

In discussions with other people about the video, I've found that I've gotten plenty of nods, as if to acknowledge the problems that exist.  But no one seems to want to change.  Including myself.  I find it monumentally difficult to change.  Yes, I've lost faith in my fellow man, but can I gain it back again for myself, as well?  

I realize this is part of what burdens me, what this one or that one posted on Facebook, questioning the meaning behind a text, how many likes did I get for my picture on Instagram, how many followers I've gained and lost on Twitter...so many things.  Social media does have a purpose, and a good one at that, but it should never get in the way of living.

Maybe a way out of the mud would be to change my online habits, even a little bit.  In conjunction with what I learned about not stressing over the little things from my conversation with the same Frank a couple of weeks ago and seeing a connection between my darkly clouded mind and spending so much of my precious time wasted on my virtual "connections" to the world, I want to pull back in a meaningful way.  I'm not sure when or how long or what form that will take, but soon.  

Though I will pull back from Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and all things cell phone for a spell, I will continue to post here.  After all, I'm working on a life story...

Stay tuned...   

Song of the Day - Dance with My Father - Luther Vandross

sandrachamplain

Back when I was a child

before life removed all the innocence

My father would lift me high

and dance with my mother and me and then

Spin me around till I fell asleep

Then up the stairs he'd carry me

And I knew for sure I was loved

This special Father's Day Song of the Day is for all of the people out there who's only connection to their dad is through memories.  Luther Vandross' beautiful words are ones with which anyone can identify with. No matter what kind of dad (or a mom for that matter) you have, remember that being one doesn't come with a manual to be followed, and so even though they're not always perfect, there is one sure thing we can all bank on, and that is love.

If I could get another chance,

another walk, another dance with him

I'd play a song that would never ever end

How I'd love, love, love

to dance with my father again

This is the fifth Father's Day without my dad and I have several friends who find themselves in the same situation where all they can do today is remember.  So to anyone who celebrates Father's Day simply through memories, this is for you, and for your dads up in Heaven.  Happy Father's Day!

For Nana, My Angel

Ugh, I've been so, so busy lately and I've had so little time to dedicate to any sort of writing, but I cannot let this day end without acknowledging a very special and solemn anniversary.  It was 20 years ago today that my nana, my mother's mother, Mary Randazzo, passed away.

Nana always was and still is one of the most special people in my life.  In many ways, she was like a second mother to me, especially during the couple of years I lived with my grandparents in the early 80's to attend Fordham University in the Bronx.  Nana was so many things, an awesome cook, a loving wife, mother and grandmother, and a selfless caregiver to anyone that ever needed her help.

She had a self-deprecating sense of humor, yet she could hold her own against her husband Joe, my loud-mouthed grandpa with a Sicilian temper, when need be.  All of us kids loved spending time with her.  She fed us, entertained us, and always had a way of making us laugh, never afraid to make a fool of herself just to get a chuckle out of the nine of us grand kids.  She'd serenade us with lines from songs like "Ride a cock horse, to Danbury Cross, to see a pink lady upon a white horse" (we'd all take turns riding her knee as she sang this), and whenever we'd leave her house from a visit, she'd say to my dad, Now George, make me look good," and then she'd appear to push our car out of the driveway with her brute force. These are the kinds of things you never forget.   (I'm smiling right now as I write this...)

This is the only picture I have of my 

nana, from when she was probably in her 20's

I'd love to tell you more about this very special person, but unfortunately I am short on time.  I will get to it, though.  There's so much to say about this wonderful lady who was full of life and full of love and that everybody loved back.  A few weeks ago, when I had my Tarot cards read, the psychic told me that I've inherited a lot of traits from her and that she is out there somewhere looking down on me and rooting me on. I have the opportunity to live a life that she would have liked to live, using the gifts that she passed down to me, and I want to make her proud.  Ever since that day, I've felt a little better knowing that even though she's been gone for 20 years, she's still there, watching over me.  She's my angel...

To see more of what nana was like, check out A Weekend Full of Memories.