February 16, 2010

Valentine's Day

Last year for Valentine's Day, Nathan cooked me a seven-course dinner and gave me a gift with each course.


This year was a little different.

We went to Nathan's parents' house on Saturday since he had to get his birth certificate to get his new driver's license. Nathan and I both had horrible stomach pain on Sunday morning, but his went away in less than an hour. I managed to go to church, and in the afternoon Nathan bought me some Alka Seltzer, which did the trick. I felt well enough that evening to meet with our wedding officiant, Pastor Joe, who used to be the pastor of the church Nathan attended. Since I had previously only seen him briefly in Office Max, I was glad to be able to talk a little more with the man who's going to pronounce us husband and wife.

Later that night, though, things got worse again, much worse than stomach pain: I found out my grandma had passed away. It was difficult news to hear, even though it wasn't a complete shock. I was glad I was still at Nathan's apartment at the time so I didn't have to be alone. We both cried for a while, then I made Nathan do some work for his graduate class, and he plopped Nenya (our dog) on my chest. 

Eventually I decided that I wanted a milkshake, so Nathan took me to Steak 'n Shake. Why a milkshake? I haven't the slightest idea. I never went to Steak 'n Shake with Nana, nor can I even recall her ever drinking a milkshake, although she did make me plenty of ice cream cones when I was little. It just sounded good at the time.
Nana with Eric, me, Rachel, and Trey

As sad as it is that Nana won't be able to see my wedding, even in pictures, I wouldn't want her to go through another 4 months of pain. She lived for over 83 years, and I had her in my life for 23 years and 1 month. All of her grandchildren are old enough that they will remember her. 

I'm thankful for the memories. As I drove to work Monday morning in the snow, I remembered how much she hated snow. I used to yell "Snow showers!" to her out the car window as we left her house, and she would scream. I think this tradition started when there actually was snow coming, but I kept doing it for a long time. I remember how worked up she always got while watching sports. "Hey! You be nice to Peyton!" I remember how she told me, "You are going to get on that bike and RIDE!" as she gave my bike a big push into the driveway, forcing me to ride for the first time without training wheels. I remember how she tried to get me to eat my greens by telling me that the little green man in my stomach was jumping up and down because he was hungry. I remember how I loved to scare her by walking into her house and saying "Boo!" to make her scream. When I got older, I tried not to scare her, but she still screamed and I still loved it, as horrible as it is. I remember sitting next to her in church - the sound of her voice and the smell of her leather purse. I remember doing watercolor with her on the screened-in porch, and how almost all of her attempts at painting animals turned into "happy little rocks." I remember how much she loved her family, and I am glad she no longer has to worry about us.


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