My last visit with Nana

The last time I saw Nana was the week of my wedding. At the time, my parents were down in Atlanta, so Nana had to fly out. She was using Dad's frequent flier miles which meant she could fly out on Wednesday or Saturday. I was getting married on a Sunday, so my mom said that Saturday should be fine, but I wanted her out early. I wanted to give her time to relax and visit. This was actually a bit of a fight between Mom and me ("What is she going to do with all that time before we arrive?") but I won.

Nana didn't really like flying, but they always took care of her. When I went to her gate (this was pre-9/11), she had about three flight attendants waiting on her. We spent the next couple of days together, mostly just hanging out, doing those last minute things one needs to do before a wedding. I remember going to the local diner, which she loved because they let her smoke and linger over her coffee. (One of the many things Nana taught me was how to linger over coffee.) I don't remember a lot of the specifics of the visit, but I just remember her being there, enjoying being with us. We had dinner at Andrea's one night, the rehearsal dinner, more errands, but it was just nice. I was so glad that I had asked for the extra time, that she was relaxed and happy. 

She, of course, enjoyed the wedding. Lots of booze, people she knew, dancing, what's not to love. We played "I'm Down to my Last Cigarette" for her. I remember saying good-bye to her the next morning. I remember hugging her and thinking that this might be the last time I saw her. (This wasn't some gut feeling or fantastic prediction. For years before she died, I always reminded myself that this could be the case and was grateful when I did see her again.)

Of course,  I did talk to her plenty of times before she died. But, here's the weird one. For years, when she'd struggle with her lighter, I'd offer to light her cigarettes. And she'd tell me, "When I can't light my own cigarettes, it's time for me to go." I talked to her on the Christmas after our wedding. And towards the end of our conversation, she said, "It's the weirdest thing. My thumb is so numb today, I can't even light my cigarettes." She died the next day.

Nana, I miss you every single day.