Last Thursday, in an intimate gathering, we said our final good-byes to my dear Nana: Isabel Lee.
There is a strange mystery that surrounds my Nana. Unlike my mother’s mother, with whom I lived for much of my younger years, I knew only superficial details of my father’s mother. I did not spend concentrated amounts of time with her during which I could see how she acted when enraged, or hurt or confused. With me she was always kind, engaging and entertaining. And while I have few stories of my Nana I have many memories including but not limited to:
– noodles, ready and waiting, just the way I like them any time of day.
– gathering plants from the Okanagan desert to dye her wool
– her weaving loom
– Mah Jong (not the computer kind: the adult only kind, and the only time I heard my Nana speak chinese)
– the orchard
– driving her golf cart
– watching her put on her make-up
– red envelopes
– my Grandad
Nana, you lived a full life and were past due to move on to a place with no pain or suffering. You will be missed but your memory will live on.
|Isabel’s children, grandchildren (the only one missing is my brother and a couple of spouses) and great grandchildren…including Jakob…who was THAT kid. Ugh.|
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