When I think of Nancy, I think of falafel: three Fs and one L. She was Fun, Listening, Family-oriented, and Faithful.
I’ve never seen someone so determined to have fun. I’ve known Nancy for about 14 years. For a majority of that time she was injured or sick. But she didn’t let a serious car accident or late-diagnosed illness stop her from having fun. The example par excellence of this for me came Memorial Day weekend this year, when Nancy came down to Louisville to see some of the sights with us. We had a great time. Nancy went with us for 2 ½ hours to a mostly outdoors Beatles festival, even though it was very hot. The next day she watched 10 races with us at Churchill Downs. This was only two months ago, and Nancy must have already been getting sicker. But I don’t think she was faking it. She was determined to have fun, and we all did. (The picture of Nancy and Stephanie above is from the last couple of hours of that visit.)
Something else that surprised me a little about that visit was – as busy as we were – Nancy wanted to go to church with us Sunday morning. After worship she got to meet some of our church friends and our pastor. This past Sunday during worship I passed a note to our pastor about Nancy’s death. Our pastor said a prayer of thanksgiving for Nancy’s life and a prayer of concern and hope for Stephanie and our family. Then she said just seven or eight words about Nancy, talking about Nancy’s optimism and zest for life. This is someone who had talked with Nancy at most for about two minutes. Nancy’s determination to have fun was very obvious even to virtual strangers.
Nancy was also a great listener (and a good viewer and reader). Stephanie and I are both big talkers. And Nancy was so patient, attentive, and enthusiastic as we told our stories and talked about challenges we faced. Stephanie called and talked with her mother about every day, and she is never going to find someone who listened to her like Nancy did. My own mother is a very good listener too, but she is no Nancy. Nancy also viewed (and also) kept hard-copy photographs when we generated them and gave them to her and - more recently - read our blog entries and Facebook status updates and looked through our Facebook photo albums - then and now, religiously. Since we stopped blogging as regularly, I usually e-mail a few regular readers a link when we've done a few new entries. After blogging obliquely about Nancy's death a couple of days ago, I habitually typed in her e-mail address as one of the few people I was notifying about the entry before I realized that didn't make sense. Sadly, I deleted her e-mail address. No one will follow us and interact with us on Facebook like Nancy did.
Most people know how close Nancy was with her family. An interesting thing was how expansive her vision of who her family was. It certainly included all of her stepchildren, their spouses and partners and widows, and their kids – all the way down to the daughter of her recently newfound youngest stepson, who she helped show around when the granddaughter visited the United States. It certainly included all of her brothers and their kids and grandkids. And it even included people on my side of the family, including my (step) grandfather. I wasn’t there, but I’ve heard this story: One day Nancy and Stephanie were driving near Westerville and they decided to stop by my grandparents’ house, where I also lived. It turns out only my Grandpa was home, but Nancy said she wanted to meet my Grandpa. Nancy bounded in there and gave Grandpa a big hug. This was perfectly natural, as far as she was concerned: She’d heard a lot about Grandpa, felt like she knew him, and – even though Stephanie and I weren’t married yet – as far as Nancy was concerned, he was family. Grandpa, who was in his 80s then and is somewhat reserved, was a little flabbergasted. But you couldn’t help but like and love Nancy, and soon Grandpa did: Now, every time I see him, he asks about her.
A lot of us – after a bad car accident and after being diagnosed with cancer – might say: God, why did I get stuck with all of this? Why me? It’s not fair. We might doubt there is anyone up there at all. Nancy may have asked herself these questions. But she certainly didn’t talk about it. In fact, Nancy’s faith seemed to grow stronger, deeper, and richer during the last few difficult years. She was ever more faithful in her final months and years. I don't know if I could have done that.
God: We don’t know why you took Nancy from us, and we don’t know why you took her when you did and how you did. There’s a big hole here that it’s going to be awfully hard for us to fill, no matter how hard we try. But, God, I believe you have a plan for every single one of us. I can’t know this, but it seems obvious to me that part of your plan for Nancy was that she would be an example for all of us, that she would demonstrate to us how to have fun, how to listen, how to be family-oriented, and how to be faithful. Maybe just maybe Nancy had done all of this that she could, and you called her home. We miss her terribly, and I have feeling that folks there with you are getting the better end of the deal. If it wasn’t already like this, I have a feeling there is starting to be a lot of laughter, a lot of smiles, and a lot of hugs up in Heaven right now, among all kinds of folks, many of whom Nancy already regards as family. May it be so.
-- Perry
I’ve never seen someone so determined to have fun. I’ve known Nancy for about 14 years. For a majority of that time she was injured or sick. But she didn’t let a serious car accident or late-diagnosed illness stop her from having fun. The example par excellence of this for me came Memorial Day weekend this year, when Nancy came down to Louisville to see some of the sights with us. We had a great time. Nancy went with us for 2 ½ hours to a mostly outdoors Beatles festival, even though it was very hot. The next day she watched 10 races with us at Churchill Downs. This was only two months ago, and Nancy must have already been getting sicker. But I don’t think she was faking it. She was determined to have fun, and we all did. (The picture of Nancy and Stephanie above is from the last couple of hours of that visit.)
Something else that surprised me a little about that visit was – as busy as we were – Nancy wanted to go to church with us Sunday morning. After worship she got to meet some of our church friends and our pastor. This past Sunday during worship I passed a note to our pastor about Nancy’s death. Our pastor said a prayer of thanksgiving for Nancy’s life and a prayer of concern and hope for Stephanie and our family. Then she said just seven or eight words about Nancy, talking about Nancy’s optimism and zest for life. This is someone who had talked with Nancy at most for about two minutes. Nancy’s determination to have fun was very obvious even to virtual strangers.
Nancy was also a great listener (and a good viewer and reader). Stephanie and I are both big talkers. And Nancy was so patient, attentive, and enthusiastic as we told our stories and talked about challenges we faced. Stephanie called and talked with her mother about every day, and she is never going to find someone who listened to her like Nancy did. My own mother is a very good listener too, but she is no Nancy. Nancy also viewed (and also) kept hard-copy photographs when we generated them and gave them to her and - more recently - read our blog entries and Facebook status updates and looked through our Facebook photo albums - then and now, religiously. Since we stopped blogging as regularly, I usually e-mail a few regular readers a link when we've done a few new entries. After blogging obliquely about Nancy's death a couple of days ago, I habitually typed in her e-mail address as one of the few people I was notifying about the entry before I realized that didn't make sense. Sadly, I deleted her e-mail address. No one will follow us and interact with us on Facebook like Nancy did.
Most people know how close Nancy was with her family. An interesting thing was how expansive her vision of who her family was. It certainly included all of her stepchildren, their spouses and partners and widows, and their kids – all the way down to the daughter of her recently newfound youngest stepson, who she helped show around when the granddaughter visited the United States. It certainly included all of her brothers and their kids and grandkids. And it even included people on my side of the family, including my (step) grandfather. I wasn’t there, but I’ve heard this story: One day Nancy and Stephanie were driving near Westerville and they decided to stop by my grandparents’ house, where I also lived. It turns out only my Grandpa was home, but Nancy said she wanted to meet my Grandpa. Nancy bounded in there and gave Grandpa a big hug. This was perfectly natural, as far as she was concerned: She’d heard a lot about Grandpa, felt like she knew him, and – even though Stephanie and I weren’t married yet – as far as Nancy was concerned, he was family. Grandpa, who was in his 80s then and is somewhat reserved, was a little flabbergasted. But you couldn’t help but like and love Nancy, and soon Grandpa did: Now, every time I see him, he asks about her.
A lot of us – after a bad car accident and after being diagnosed with cancer – might say: God, why did I get stuck with all of this? Why me? It’s not fair. We might doubt there is anyone up there at all. Nancy may have asked herself these questions. But she certainly didn’t talk about it. In fact, Nancy’s faith seemed to grow stronger, deeper, and richer during the last few difficult years. She was ever more faithful in her final months and years. I don't know if I could have done that.
God: We don’t know why you took Nancy from us, and we don’t know why you took her when you did and how you did. There’s a big hole here that it’s going to be awfully hard for us to fill, no matter how hard we try. But, God, I believe you have a plan for every single one of us. I can’t know this, but it seems obvious to me that part of your plan for Nancy was that she would be an example for all of us, that she would demonstrate to us how to have fun, how to listen, how to be family-oriented, and how to be faithful. Maybe just maybe Nancy had done all of this that she could, and you called her home. We miss her terribly, and I have feeling that folks there with you are getting the better end of the deal. If it wasn’t already like this, I have a feeling there is starting to be a lot of laughter, a lot of smiles, and a lot of hugs up in Heaven right now, among all kinds of folks, many of whom Nancy already regards as family. May it be so.
-- Perry
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