Like many people, I used to have four grandparents.
But unlike many of my friends, I had the chance to know all four grandparents and had a relationship with each of them.
Two of my grandparents had Parkinson’s disease; one of them was bedridden most of my life, and the other slowly declined in health until he barely recognized me. Two of them didn’t speak English.
When I was in seventh grade, on the night of my best friend Rozie’s bat mitzvah, my first grandparent died. Needless to say, I had to miss the party.
Then another passed away, and soon I went to college. While living in New York for the summer for an internship, I got a call, and found out my third grandparent had passed away.
Suddenly only Nana was left.
Nana just turned ninety years old. She lives by herself in a nice condo in a gated complex. There is a pool and lots of flower beds. Nana has neighbors of all ages, and she is friends with them all: a young lawyer couple with a new baby, a friend’s twentysomething niece staying for the summer.
Nana has a helper now because she had some health problems recently. But overall, Nana is healthy. Nana drives and just renewed her license for another eight years. Nana just got a flat-screen plasma TV put into her bedroom. Nana e-mails.
Nana shows me Web sites where her friends design and sell purses. Nana has lots of friends from watercolor class at Beverly Hills High School. Nana coordinates her earrings with her brooches, and gets manicures and pedicures every week.
