September 22, 2014

my nana




I had a vivid dream of my Nana, Elaine Chavez, last night. My husband and brother were in it, too. We were all in my aunt's bedroom watching TV, hanging out and talking. It was present time in my dream, so my Nana and husband got to meet each other. I got to talk with her as an adult and as a mother. She was just like I remember her; sharp, hilarious, interesting and at ease with herself. I woke up feeling like her spirit had paid me a little visit in the night.

My Nana had a stroke that completely changed her when I was 19. She couldn't fully communicate with us after that. She also lost control over certain parts of her body. She had a sense of humor about it, though. Her right hand would occasionally move on it's own and frequently land right in the middle of her plate of food. She called it her "naughty girl". She had a much sweeter disposition after her stroke. She could be harsh and almost scary at times when I was a kid. After her stroke she was gentle and relaxed. The last time I saw her was right before I moved to Chicago, just a little over 11 years ago. The whole family and my significant other, at the time, drove down to Albert Lea, MN to pay her and my grandpa a visit. She died when I was just 25.

Last night's dream was amazing, because I was reminded of what she was like so long ago before her stroke. She was feisty, strong, outspoken and smart. She loved to read, cook, garden and spend time with family. She was a great conversationalist and probably would have been a perfect candidate for her own Martha Stewart type show if she were around today. Her birthday was on Halloween, she had a strong Welsh accent and an insane wardrobe. I wore a lot of her old clothes from the 50s through the 70s when I was a teenager and into my 20s. She told me to always wear my hair pulled back, and she was the only one who told me stories about my dad. I would love it if she was still alive and strong today. She could meet my husband and baby. I know she would love and adore them both.

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