Elizabeth Paulus Cheney (born Elizabeth Charlotte Paulus)
Born: November 23, 1919, Morris, New Jersey
Died: December 16, 2009, Randolph, Morris, New Jersey
Relation to Author: Grandmother (aka Nana)
Sometimes when you lose a grandparent, you see it coming and have time to prepare. I think those times are easier. But other times, it is sudden. And those times are harder.
Elizabeth (Betty) Paulus Cheney - aka Nana - died suddenly. She had a stroke two years ago today. I am still very sad and I miss her a lot. What makes it particularly hard is that I thought she had many more years ahead of her. Though she was 90 years old, she seemed to be in great health.
I looked forward for her to a time when she would no longer have to care for her husband (my PopPop) who was / is suffering from dementia. I looked forward to a time for her when she could do things for herself. She loved to travel but gave that up. And she loved to quilt, but found little time for it. But more than that, I assumed she would be around to see Becky and me start a family. I assumed I had so much more time with her, and I do feel that I took that for granted.
But I don't want this post to be all sad. We can take comfort in the life she lived. And we can celebrate the person she was. She lived to be 90 years old. Because she lived an hour away, she was able to watch us (her grandchildren) grow up. And she lived to know that two of her grandchildren were married (though she was unable to attend the weddings).
I remember Nana as a doting grandparent - although definitely more affectionate when were younger. She called me her boyfriend, which is less weird than it sounds. I recognized it as her way of saying how much she adored me.
But really, most of my memories of Nana revolve around the kitchen and food. When we visited, she spent much of the time cooking the big dinner we would have. But while cooking she would buzz in and out of the
kitchen, sitting to talk, then buzzing back to do some more
preparations. Later she would buzz back to talk some more.
And those that wanted more quality time with Nana, or those that wanted to learn more about cooking, would spend time with Nana in the kitchen. My wife is a great cook and is always trying to learn more. And she spent a lot of time with Nana, learning and also just getting to know her.
I would also spend some time in the kitchen. I offered to help sometimes, but rarely did she take me up on my offer; she had everything well under control. I would also try to learn some secrets or some recipes. But since she mostly cooked from memory, I often left empty-handed.
Truth be told, not all people who spend a lot of time in the kitchen are great cooks. But Nana definitely was an excellent cook. Her apple pie is the best I have ever had and I don't think I come to this conclusion through sentimentality. The apples were the perfect softness and the flavor sweet, but not candy or fake sweet.
Also, her Thanksgiving dinner was a marvel. She cooked the stuffing inside the turkey, which you aren't supposed to do anymore, but she knew what she was doing. And everything was delicous; the potatoes, gravy, turkey, yams. Everything. And all of this was done with the energy of someone many decades younger.
As a child of the depression, there is one trait of hers that stands out that came from that time. I remember the few times in college I tried calling on the phone to talk to her and PopPop - probably to wish a happy birthday. They wouldn't let me stay on the phone longer than a minute or two. At first, I thought maybe they didn't want to talk. It took my father to explain that they thought the call was costing me a lot of money. Even my father had difficulty convincing them the calls were cheap and that they could talk for a while.
Finally, the image I am left with - the person I see when I close my eyes - is someone vibrant and full of energy. She died after her 90th birthday, but she had not slowed a bit (at least in my memories). And her mind was still sharp as a tack and current. When my wife and I shared pictures of our wedding, she looked at every picture and soaked it all in. There was the spark in her eyes when you talked to her that showed how much life was still there.
That's what I'll remember. A vibrant person. A great cook. A doting grandma.
