September 12, 1998

Catherine Durkin was my mother's mother. I couldn't write a character this interesting. No matter the situation, Nana did her own thing. Always.

She dropped out of school at fourteen to work and help support her family.

She started dating Grandpa when she was eighteen and he was thirty-two. She wore the engagement ring he gave her on the *other* hand. She went out and had a good time. Got her youth out of the way while she was young. Men used to gather around the windows in office buildings just to watch her walk to work. Town busybodies thought she was disgraceful, making an eligible bachelor like my grandpa wait. They got married when she was twenty-eight and he was forty-two. Cause she was ready then.

She walked down the aisle in a blue velvet wedding gown.

After she had six kids, she went to nursing school. Town busybodies thought it was disgraceful. A mother belonged in the home. She didn't care. She told the admissions counselor that her high school burned down and therefore she had no record of a high school diploma. She passed her classes and tests and became a nurse. Her patients loved her.

She said things like: "fight nice," "you make your own good time," and "I love me, too."

When saying goodbye to family members who lived far away, she'd sometimes walk away instead of standing with everyone to hug and kiss. My mom thought it cold until an aunt said, "Look closely next time. Catherine walks away so no one will see her cry."

As a baby, I liked to be rocked. Loved the attention. Instead of putting me in the crib and listening to me cry, Nana would tie a thin blanket around us so if she fell asleep in the rocking chair, she wouldn't drop me.

She had the best giggle.

When we'd leave her house after a vacation, she'd stand on the porch and wave until we were completely out of sight.

I loved her house and the way the stairs creaked when we used them.

Once when I broke up with a boyfriend, I wanted to sit at home and feel sorry for myself. "I'm just going to watch a movie with you, Nana. I don't want to go out." She snorted. "Don't hang around here with me. I don't want to look at your sad face all night. Get going." I had forgotten that self-pity is against the rules in our family.

She lost her eyesight and suffered from arthritis, but would still walk a half-mile from our house to the shopping centers every day for a cup of coffee and essential items at the store. Even though she had to cross a two-lane highway to get there. Town busybodies thought it disgraceful, an elderly woman walking by herself on a busy road.

Have I mentioned that my Nana did her own thing? Always.

She died ten years ago today. And we still miss her.