I’m going to New York again, this August. Same place I was born, in the year and month in which I turn 40.
I could not be happier for why I’m going. My BFF’s sister is my honorary one, and we saw “Gremlins 2” together. That’s a kind of bond that doesn’t get broken 🙂
But the last time I wrote a blog about going back to New York was for a wedding. The one after that was after I’d been there, for a funeral for my Nanny.
When we heard she only had a few months left, I got super prepared to go back and live in her house with her. But she left that night.
Still, I flew back to see her — both times. The first time was the last time I really saw her. She was so happy and funny, and I hugged her goodbye, but I didn’t want it to be the last time. I never did, and maybe, probably, I never thought it would be.
The idea of flying back and knowing, dark as it sounds, that she’s not even in a funeral home makes me not want to. She was the root of everything I loved about life, about Long Island — how can I go, knowing she’s not there anymore?
And I realize then that these questions come from a place of hoping against hope and reality, that the world will stop moving.
“Your life is ahead of you, Judith,” Nanny said to me in 2010, the last time we spent legit quality hours together.
“Mine is behind me,” she then said. And I scoffed. Told her no, even though I knew she was mostly right. Because I wanted her to live forever.
“Appreciate all of it,” she said.
So I’m going to try to, harder than ever.
I love you, Nanny.