Georgian Food is Fantastic
When we returned back up North it was like an elephant in the room just was hanging’ out with us. Just looming over us, ready to be addressed. The weeks after my mom’s birthday were a blur. I had quit my internship and my job at this point, my aunt and my Dad and I had been at the house full time. Marc had still been stuck in North Carolina as the Army wouldn’t release him, and Eric? Poor Eric, flew back to CA for work after the 4th and then a week after flew back to NJ. At this time too we had Lucy, the Christian Science Nurse that would come read with my mom. Mind you, my mother wasn’t religious, but with many people who are dying, she turned to religion to understand why. That being said, my mom was a strong intellect and with that came her creating correlations between Christian Science and Qi Gong Eastern healing. Impressive, right? That was just my mom. Lucy in the begging of the summer was more like a nurse, but as the summer progressed, she became someone to read with my mother. This is when at this time we brought Nana into the picture. Nana may have been a sadder story than my mother’s that summer.
Nana came to the United States from Georgia (the country). She came in through Cuba, and came to the United States to earn money for her daughter who she put in school in Greece. Nana spoke very little English, but loved to read the magazines we had. We gave Nana a weekly stipend, a place to stay, and food to eat. She helped our mother. Any hour of the day. She was as quiet as a mouse, but we all loved her. I loved driving her places and asking her of her culture through google translate. Nana made a living in this country essentially staying as a caregiver to elderly or ill until they pass or someone new comes into the picture. I have so many questions about Nana. She was so young. I’d say late twenties, early thirties. She had seen so much death around her, sacrificing her happiness for the future of her child in what seems a far away land, only communicating through Facetime.
I still think about Nana. She was there on my 21st birthday, and it was so strange to think I got to go out, have fun, have friends around me (even with a mother dying) and I still felt sorry that she didn’t get to have the same. I felt sad that my struggles felt nothing compared to hers… but still she was so generous to us. When my mom had fallen into a Coma we asked Nana about Georgian food and she had her friends in Brooklyn drop off a FEAST that lasted a week for us (and that that point we had upwards of 20 people in and out of the house). Needless to say, Nana made me appreciate what I had.
Then there was Denise. Denise was one of the hospice nurses (so she entered the picture in later July, closer to my birthday) , which we will never forget. One day, Marc came hoe with a ‘Bear Claw’: A type of cinnamon bread/pastry from our local bakery. We told her one day before her shift to have a piece. She did, and loved it. The next day she came, she arrived early to ask for another piece. As the days went on, Denise would arrive early just to have a Bear Claw (or two some days) and converse over coffee with the family. So much so, we started to hide some of the Claws from Denise. Now, when we visit home, we have a Bear Claw in honor of Denise. Funny how that works… every time we order 8 or so Bear Claws, the bakery thinks we’re crazy, but we know.
