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May 28, 2003

Ruth Littlefield, 1907-2003

Last Thursday Ruth Littlefield, my maternal grandmother, fell down a flight of stairs and crushed several vertebrae in her back. Although it appeared she was on her way to recovery, apparently a blood clot had formed somewhere in her system. Yesterday that clot reached her lungs, killing her.

In my grandmother's kitchen there is a small plaque that reads, "All our visitors bring joy. Some by coming, others by going." As much as I hate to say it, there are far more people in the latter category than the former. Most people, of course, fall into different categories at different times, as there are usually times when you want to see people and times when you'd rather not. Nana, however, always was in the first category. Her spirit, her love of her fellow man, and her basic decency combined somehow to make her a person people just enjoyed being around.

In her 96 years, Nana survived two World Wars, the Depression, the Korean War, Vietnam, the turmoil of the 1960s, the AIDS crisis, the Cold War and innumerable lesser crises. She raised six children, around twenty grandchildren, more great-grandchildren than I could possibly count, and we all expected she'd be seeing some great-great-grandchildren in another few years. She was proud of all of them, and with good reason. Whether from environment or genetics, I've always been impressed by the moral character of my aunts, uncles and cousins. As an almost universal rule, they not only know what the right thing is, they actually do it. Nana's legacy is as secure as anyone on the planet.

While I mourn Nana’s death, I’m thankful that I can look back on a life that was very well spent. I can’t imagine anyone being dissatisfied with a life as full as hers, and I know I would die content if I could bring one-tenth the happiness into the world that she did. So why the tears?

They’re not for Nana, who lived life on her terms and went out, if not precisely as she would have wished, certainly her end was far better than it could have been. She lived in her own home until the end. She never lost her faculties, nor did she impose any burden on her children.

Nor are they for her family or the world, even though both are poorer today than they were yesterday. The light Nana brought to the world was a rare gift. As my father pointed out, Nana’s funeral will probably rival that of heads of state, as almost everyone in her home town knew and loved her, not to mention her family.

Yet the tears come for the most selfish of reasons. Because I miss my grandmother; because I never spent enough time with her, a failing I’ll never be able to rectify. Yes, the world is a poorer place today, but I weep because my world is far more empty today. To borrow from Billy Crystal, she was 96 years old, and she went too soon.

I loved her, and I’ll miss her more than I can possibly put into words. Goodbye, Nana.

UPDATE (5/29/03): Her obituary in the Bangor Daily News. Although short, it adds some interesting details that I'd never before heard, as well as a precise count on grandchildren (21 grandchildren, 42 great-grandchildren).

UPDATE II (5/29/03): Thank you to those who expressed condolences; it is greatly appreciated. We're flying east tomorrow for the weekend to attend the viewing and the funeral. We'll return late Sunday night.

UPDATE III (6/2/03): Again, thank you to those who wrote. We made it there and back OK, obviously. The service was very well done, and we had a chance to meet with relatives we hadn't seen in years, which was nice. I'll try to be back to regular blogging by the end of the day. Thanks for your patience.