A very tough week… - Lisa Burke Simon

This was a very tough week. On Wednesday, my father’s only sibling, his brother Bill, died – and on Friday, my mother’s only sibling, her sister Harlene, died.
Uncle Bill, almost age 77, was 11 years younger than my father, who died in 1989. Uncle Bill had a tough life, dealing with growing up with difficult parents and fighting mental illness. Although he graduated with a degree in English from Berkeley and worked for many years at the IRS, Uncle Bill struggled most of his life. With few friends, no spouse, and no children, my brother Shawn and his wife Pamela became Uncle Bill’s primary emotional support with the rest of us siblings helping at times. I admit it was tough accepting phone calls from Uncle Bill – aka, Uncle Eeyore. Regardless, I feel sad about his death, caused by contracting covid at his assisted living facility. Not only for the loss of the person but also the last generational linkage to my father.

Aunt Harlene, age 91, was exactly six years older than my mom, who died in 2009. They were both born on March 4. Aunt Harlene became an emotional shell of herself after Uncle Irv, her husband of over 60 years, died three years ago. Social, beautiful, and talented, Aunt Harlene was a special ed teacher and had three children and four grandchildren. The past seven or eight years, since she fell and broke her hip, have been sad and difficult for her. She was ready to go, so when she contracted covid, she told her children she was done. And she was.

Right after receiving the news of Aunt Harlene’s death, I picked up Emmett for an overnighter so his parents could drive down to SoCal to get Emmett’s big brother from sleepaway camp. While having a fabulous – and, yes, exhausting – time with Emmett, memories kept flooding back…

Emmett calls me “Nana,” the name his parents have given me. He has three other grandmothers, one called Meme and the other two called Grandmama. I love the name Nana! It’s what I called my grandmothers and what my mother was called! Hanging with Emmett, I thought about Nana Harlene and her grandchildren, one of whom is getting married next May. Nana is a powerful and meaningful name in my family.
Although I’ve lived in my condo for nine years, I had never been in the pool until this Friday when I took Emmett for a “swim.” Who taught me to swim? My Pop Pop Al, Uncle Bill’s father. He built an apartment complex in Burbank with a pool and taught me to swim in that pool.
While rocking Emmett at bedtime in the chair my mother – Nana Anne – bought me when Ben was born, I gazed upon two paintings hanging on my wall. I don’t remember if Aunt Harlene or her father, Pop Pop Dave, gave them to me, but they’re artwork Pop Pop Dave and Nana Fay received for their wedding.