That’s Life: Happily, I am Nanna

I have just returned from a 10-day break from Marion County activities. It is, actually good to be back. But it was great to go away.

The birth of my first granddaughter and third grandchild was the occasion for the winter break from work. When I arrived in Valdosta, my 2-year-old grandson, calling me “Me-Maw,” greeted me. Now that’s not really a bad thing, except during the past four years of my grand-mothering, I had gotten use to being called Nanna.

To be honest with you, it took a while to come to terms with the aging process and the knowledge that I am grandmother … I have just become comfortable with the notion. Well, let’s be totally honest here, I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I actually have children, not to mention the subsequent children’s children!

Just when I begin enjoying one phase of this passage through time, another phase rolls in. C’est la vie.

I have been blessed with the gift of having a great family. I had grandparents I adored. With that in mind, I am working hard to make sure that when my grandchildren recall me, they do so with kindness, love and laughter in their eyes, voices and hearts. That being said, my youngest daughter recently told me that as she sat studying, she broke down quite suddenly into tears.

It was the thought that one day she wouldn’t be able to send a text message on a whim or an e-mail on the sly during a class or make a telephone call to me, her mommy. That one day she’d never hear my voice again.

I told her I understood … out of the blue, just a few weeks ago, I heard myself say “I’ll ask daddy.” After 12 years, I still want to talk to someone who isn’t here. Heck, after 20 years, I still want to talk to others who have long been gone. It’s true that the hardest part of life is that death is a large part of it.

Loss and grieving are an every day part of living, the loss of dreams and the grief of unmet expectations. It is our memories that sustain us.

So I held and oogled, “oohed” and “ahhed” over and affectionately cared for little Addison Faith with all the strength and love I could muster. I had to leave her for a little while, but I know I’ll see her again. That’s the hope of life, and for me, of death.

Oh, and when I left my oldest daughter’s home, Addison’s big brother was calling me Nanna again.

Dianne P. Owens is the editor of the Star & Enterprise. You may contact her at or at (843)423-2050.