Nonie

Last Thursday, approximately one week after her 99th birthday, my grandmother Nonie passed away. Nonie, which is an affectionate term for grandmother in Italian, was a wonderful woman and I will miss her. I remember Nonie at her most vibrant when my family would go down to Margate, NJ every summer and stay at her house one block from the beach. I always remember the weather being perfect, not a cloud in the sky, and somehow, exotic. Its strange to think of now, given my very New York-centric view of New Jersey of some type of sub-urban hellhole, but just about everything about Nonie's house and town seemed so exciting and different. We would drive across the salt marsh inlet and breath in the noisome air, so toxic smelling yet still natural and a harbinger that the eternal seeming drive was about to end. She lived in large Spanish style house one block from the ocean, and the air was always heavy and sticky with sea air. The grand entrance was stunning; red carpet running up an open staircase and into a balcony that overlooked the room. We often used the side entrance to Nonie's kitchen, (where she would hide my butterscotch pastries above the pea green fridge)and the stony walk up to her door always seemed to be baking in the sun and filled with the most wonderful floral aromas. I remember so distinctly that house, walking into the kitchen, passing through her office area (where she kept several letter openers and a bubble infused paperweight) and into the red living room. Nonie would be on my right, sitting in her chair, watching television or directing affairs from that throne. She was always kind but firm, with a quick wit that I didn't understand until much later, and she was one you never wanted to cross. Still she was always loving and happy and always had kind words for me, if I was behaving. The living room was the most used room in the house, and another of my most vivid memories was ordering HUGE subs from some sandwich shop in Margate, and the loving the excitement of unpacking each sub, figuring out who ordered what and chowing down.

I would often sleep in Nonie's gigantic king bed and I would sometimes toss and turn, uncomfortable and excited in my new surroundings. Car headlights would sometimes splash up against her bedroom wall and the fade off into the night, and eventually I would drift off to sleep, no doubt dreaming about the beach. In the mornings, afternoons, or really anytime, we would head down to the beach. It was less than five minute walk, past perhaps 10 houses,the blue and white beach club on the left where you could get umbrella and beach chairs and onto the scorching sand. There never seemed to be a storm in sight, and although Nonie was too old even then to make her way down to the beach, I knew she was happy just knowing her children and grandchildren were enjoying it. At night, we would head to the boardwalk in Atlantic City, and here I was presented with a whole other set of sights and wonders. The salt water taffy! The lights! The hot dogs! The rocking boat that made you feel like you were about to fall out of it, and the dark ocean surrounding it all. There were too many diversions to sample in one night, but would always make sure to bring some fudge back for Nonie.

One time Nonie gave me my first real shock of independence. It was just me and her hanging out in her African art festooned living room when she called me over out of the blue.
"Here's five dollars," she said. "Go down to the store and get youself something." I was maybe 7 or 8 years old and five dollars then felt like I had just won the lottery. Crossing the road by myself was something I dreamt about in nightmares. I was shocked and impressed that Nonie trusted me to complete this task all myself. But there was my mission laid out to me, and knowing she trusted me gave me strength and self confidence.

Finally, Nonie grew too old to take care of herself down in Margate and my parents decided to bring her up to Lexington where they could be closer to her. They found her a nice condo 15 minutes away from our house and hired nurses and caregivers to take care of her. We would have her over to dinner almost every weekend, and when I got my drivers license, I took pride in my task of going over to pick up Nonie. When I came home from school for winter break, I would sometimes go over to Nonie's just for a chat. Her sharp wit was hilarious and at a time when I was very stressed about who I was and what I was going to do with my life, these chats with Nonie were a pleasure. She never had any criticism, just words of encouragement and advice. I knew that she always enjoyed my surprise visits, I'm not sure she ever knew that I enjoyed them as much as she did.

As Nonie grew older still, it became harder for her to move, she never got any exercise, and after a few falls, my parents decided that it was time to move her to an assisted living facility. I would stories about Nonie, how she would sometimes see things that weren't there, how she would forget who my mother and my aunts were, and how she would sometimes be mean to her aides. But I also heard about how she kept her sharp wit, and would come out with a pointed comment at just the right time. Just over a month ago, I was in Boston with Rick for a tennis tournament there. My mother encouraged me to go see Nonie at some point and even though I wanted to, I was scared to, and we didn't have too much time and the truth is I forgot before Rick and I left for Provincetown. On our way back we had some extra time and I decided to visit her. We walked into the upper ward and I spotted her from the back, sitting by herself. I walked around her and sat in front of her and although she looked similar, she was missing several teeth and her eyes were cloudy. I was afraid she wouldn't recognize me. "Hi Nonie!" I yelled, "It's Jonathan, your grandson!" "Jonathan!" she replied, "what are you doing here?!" It was the same old Nonie, the same excitement to see one of her grandchildren. We talked and chatted and I introduced Rick, and told her he was a teacher. "You better watch out for this one," she said about me. And later, to me "you better hang on to this one." And somehow, I knew she knew. And I knew she didn't care and that she loved me. I knew she enjoyed my visit tremendously. I hopes she knows I enjoyed it just as much as she did.

Nonie died about a month after I went to visit her, and I'm so grateful I got to see her one last time. I'm sorry I was too young to miss her younger, more vibrant years, but I know she carried that same spirit with until until the very end. I will remember her always, and miss her deeply.