Grace thy name is Mabel

When I was three years old my father died.  This post is not about him.  This post is about my Nana.  She was the closest thing I had to knowing my father.  She played a major role in shaping me into the up-front loudmouth that I am today.

Nana had a hard life.  She was born in 1910 and when she was small she was removed from her single mother and placed in an orphanage.  When she was 19 she herself had become a single mother of two only to have her children taken from her because she didn’t have enough money to support them.  She went on to marry my grandfather and have four kids who she raised on very little money as she spent her days cleaning other people’s homes.  Everyone in the family knows the story of when the welfare cheque was late and she dragged all of the kids down to the office and said she would stay there with her hungry kids until they gave it to her.  One time they lived on stuffing for a week. 

Nana was the strongest, most open-hearted person I have ever known.  She would tell you exactly what she thought but she didn’t judge you.  When I brought a friend over who had a big spiky Mohawk she said, “what the hell did you do to your hair?!”  but that didn’t mean she wasn’t just as accepting of her as she was of anyone else.  When her busybody friend made comments about me having two guys for roommates her answer was, “if it’s okay with her mother then it’s nobody else’s business.”  And when I broke into tears because a guy at school was threatening me she said, “He’ll have to get through me and your uncle first!”

From her I learned what it means to be a strong, honest woman.  I learned what it means to lead a life guided by love and honour.  I learned beauty goes right to the core because Nana was the most beautiful human being.  She gave me as much of my Dad as she could.  She showed me what resilience really means.  She made me a Craig in more than name.

When she died I could have said a lot at her funeral.  I could have said all of this.  But I didn’t because it was mine.  Because there were people there who had never taken the time to get to know this phenomenal woman and I didn’t want to share my grief with them.  I cried at the funeral, quiet tears streaming down my face.  Later, at home alone, the real grief hit.  I wailed, I sobbed, I physically collapsed.  I couldn’t comprehend a world without her.  It wasn’t just my loss.  The world was forever diminished by her absence.  The pain ripped through me until I was spent.

Now, I feel her with me always.  She’s taken her rightful place in my heart next to Daddy.  When I talk to some of my cousins her presence is palpable in the shared ways of thinking.  And I am eternally grateful to see so much of her beautiful spirit in my cousin Darlene.  Just like Nana she is truly a warrior mom, full of that fierce love - God help anyone who tries to hurt her kids.  Darlene, thank you for keeping Nana alive for all of us.

To all of the warrior moms, keep on trucking, you know who you are.