Christopher Street

Sticking with the topic of charcoal sketches and mortality for a minute

In my 5th life, I dated an artist. There were perks associated with this--namely that I could get him to do custom commissions for me. He did a painting of me and my brother for my mom for Christmas, for example, and for my Grandparents 50th anniversary, he did a charcoal wedding portrait.

This was an interesting gift, because my grandparents never had a wedding. Like me, they eloped. No cake, no dress, no pictures. In thinking about what might give them joy on their 50th anniversery, I thought--wow, I wish I could give them a wedding day. Barring that, though, I thought that I could at least give them a wedding portrait.

We went through boxes of photos--Fred was especially good at working from photos--and found some that would have been from very early in their marriage. Fred put Pap in a suit and Nanna in a simple white dress and posed them in front of an alter, covered in flowers. They cried when they saw it.

I looked at that picture the other day, on Thanksgiving as I sat in my Nanna's house for the last time. I don't usually think much of it--it's been hanging on the wall for 12 years now, part of the landscape of the house. But I looked at it on Thursday, considered it, noticed it, paid respect to it.

Which is why it was on my mind yesterday.

See, Nanna died yesterday. And in the car last night on the way home from work, I wondered what will happen to the portrait. It can't hang in Nanna's house anymore, because Nanna doesn't have a house anymore. Where will it go? Odd the things you think about. I know that it's not the portrait that I am sad about, that it's just a manifestation of a much bigger sad. The portrait's disposition represents the horrible prospect that, since my Grandfather died a couple years ago, it will soon be time to completely dismantle their lives and, in so doing, dismantle huge chunks of my childhood. Nanna's house gets sold. The tree in the backyard with the tire swing? Gone. That flat backyard that flooded every time it so much as threatened to rain -- the one that we used to splash in with Nanna on warm summer days? Sold. Nanna's famous apple pies? How is there Christmas without those? I mean, yeah--she taught me how to make them, but it just won't be the same. Nothing is ever going to be the same.

I made a new Livejournal icon today for Christmas--it's a picture of my Nanna in all her crazy glory, standing like Vanna White in front of my Aunt's Christmas tree, circa 1991. This is the way I will remember her, and I wanted to share just a piece of the remarkable goofball that she was. I'm leaving it up through the Christmas season to honor her memory.

And, for the funeral, I'm dying my hair bright Nanna red. Up in heaven, it's going to make her smile. It will horrify the rest of my family, but I don't really care. This one's for Nanna.

Posted by Lori at December 4, 2003 8:32 AM