I’ve spent the last week or so trying to write this out. To let the words that didn’t want to come out, flow. For some reason, they just wouldn’t come. I tried to bring the past forward, to produce a written visual of a remarkable woman that I was so lucky to have known. I’ve come to realize that there are no perfect words, no visual that I can convey to people that would ever be satisfactory. Once I managed to come to that revelation, things became clearer, and I feel that I can put to words everything I need to.
It was a little less than a year ago that I wrote about the passing of John Hart. Well, just last week marked the passing of his wife Lillian, a woman that I knew for only a short time relatively speaking, but that had a profound impact on my life.
Lillian was, to me, the epitome of strength. The type of strength that I think so very few of us posess, and the type of strength I dearly wish I had.
Lillian was strong for her family. She took care of her kids for years, raising them right, teaching them to be the good people they would become. Later, she took care for her grandchilren, forwarding those same lessons and love. And later in life she helped to take care of her husband, just as he helped take care of her. They each had their individual weaknesses that the other made up for, resulting in a strength of familty that you seldome see, let alone from two people in their nineties.
Lillian was strong as a person. Adversity is when we are truly tested. When we can truly see who and what we are. It’s easy to keep it together during the good times, it’s another to do so during the hardest times of your life. She was the type of person that suffered the loss of her sight, and adjusted. The type of person that lost her daughter way too young, and was strong to support the rest of her family. The type of person who lost her husband of almost 67 years, and had to adjust to a whole new world. Through it all, she was always in good spirits, and always offered me a smile and a hug. In her darkest times, she went out of her way to make sure that the people around her were okay.
She was strong in her faith. We all struggle with our own beliefs, outlooks and personal views. I’m sure that Lillian was no different in that regard. But, when it came to her faith in God, she was very, very strong. When most people say that they’ll pray for you, I think a lot of us brush it off as a casual remark. Whenever I was having a rough time, she would always tell me that she would pray for me. And to be honest, I took a great deal of comfort in that. It may seem strange to say, but I came to think of her prayers as being “the good stuff”. Her faith was so strong that it would inspire you to have faith.
A year or two ago, I made an off hand remark to Cat, saying that I didn’t think that when one of her grandparents passed away, the other would be all that far behind. I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past week. In my eyes, they were a pair so tightly connected that the world just wasn’t quite right with one but not the other. I really wish I could explain this better, but it seems to me that this was a pair that was just *meant* to be together, whether it be in this world or the next. The rest of us may have lost her, but I am greatly comforted by the thought that John and Lillian have found their way to one another once more.
I have no idea why, but when I think about it, I have the mental image of handsome and smiling young man rowing a small boat, talking the ear off of a beautiful young woman, who is hanging on his every word. He finally has a few stories and jokes that she hasn’t heard, but even if he didn’t, she ‘d be just as happy to listen. I can’t quite make out where this boat is headed, it’s a little too misty to see, but I don’t think it really matters. They have all the time in the world ahead of them, and a lot of catching up to do. Wherever they end up, all that matters is that they end up there together.
Goodbye Nana. Thank you so much for everything.


