Sunday, September 13, 2009

This week is seven years since my paternal grandma, "Nana", passed away. Her name was Noreen Francis (Krisky) Elton, and she was wife to Papa, mom to three children, and grandmother to 9 of us, and great-grandmother to 10. I took you to Mt. Emblem cemetery in Elmhurst to see her grave today. I left you in the car so that I could have a few minutes alone to think about my Nana, and what a wonderful person she was. After some time, I took you boys to her grave and sat and told you some stories about my grandma, Nana, since neither of you had the pleasure of meeting her. I told you how she used to spoon sugar in to our cereal! See, I told you she was great. I told you how she sewed me clothes and dolls, and how she tried to teach me how to sew too (I wasn't a good learner). I told you how she used to give me a bath in her laundry tub, give me 25 cents to pick up the sticks in her yard, and give me ice cream cups for dessert. She loved to shop at Jewel, and she was extremely creative and crafty. She and Papa bought me my hope chest that sits next to my bed, and she was a faithful card sender when I was in college. When I got married, I told your dad that I wanted to have a relationship like my Nana and Papa had. Nana was fiesty, but sensitive, and my Papa loved her more than himself. I wish you could have met my Nana.

When we were there, Parker, you asked quite a few questions regarding the situation.

"Mom, who killed your Nana?"
"Nobody killed her. Her hear stopped working, and Jesus thought it was time that she lived with Him in heaven."
"Is my heart going to stop working soon?"
"No, but even it did, we don't have to be afraid of dying."
"Then why were you crying?"
"Well, I miss seeing my Nana, but I am so happy she lives with Jesus."
"Does Nana have a bed in Heaven?"
"Is she playing the Wii?"
"I don't know. We'll have to ask her when we all get there."

Kent, you were more fascinated with the orange construction flags that were stuck in the grass around the grave, and you kept wanting to pick up the rocks under neath the marble bench. But after you saw Nana's picture on the tombstone, you did say she was pretty.