So…funny story. My grandmother died. The hospice minister who spent the last few weeks, days, hours with her spoke very fondly of her at the service.
“Helen,” he said (we called her Hazel but…details…).
“Helen,” he said, “She really had it. In the days before she died, when I came to see her, as I walked in the door she said ‘People, people, people’. Boy, did she have it. People are people are people.”
He went on to give a touching sermon of how this simple phrase changed his life. It changed the way he was going to go forward and see people, from this day on. He was going to see people are just people in all of their glory and differences and failings and successes. It was moving, truly.
That Nanny of mine, she was wise. She was also pretty great. Pretty awesome. Pretty honest. Pretty brutal. And lived the last 3 years of her life in a nursing home far away from her wall built out of Budweiser cases.
It is my belief that although she was dying of cancer, and it moved into her brain pretty quickly, that in a fine moment of lucidity, when Mr. Hospice Minister walked into that room what Helen was thinking was, “People? Again? Fuh Realzies?! Can I not die in peace?”
But, Helen and Hazel were right. People, people, people. So I dedicate this section to Hazel Virginia Koska and the people, people, people that I encounter and try not to bitch-slap, daily.
Note: Nanny passed away in 2006. She is missed daily.