jennyfast

So I’ve been holding off (okay, maybe putting off and then forgetting) writing in my blog for the past while because there have been a lot of emotional events in my life that needed my attention. I know that this would probably be an ideal time to write a really raw memoir about my feeeeelings, but I’m so not that into blogging yet. Sorry!

I did just participate in the best wedding ever that will most likely NEVER be topped in this lifetime: my own. I officially became Mrs. Adam Jason Fast at about 5:30pm on Saturday, July 12, 2008 — and it was perfect. There are many, many things I’d love to share, and I will, regarding the wedding events.

Because of my beautiful, perfect wedding, however, there is one issue that I feel I haven’t given myself enough time to think about/grieve through/reflect upon — My grandmother. About 2 months ago, she had a small stroke. One month ago, she was diagnosed with cancer. I dropped everything in my life, including wedding planning, 3 weeks ago and flew to Idaho, where we had this conversation:

Grandma Ellie: I feel like a leech Jen, I can’t do anything for myself and I’m such a burden on everyone.

Me: Yeah, well, you changed your kids’ diapers for years, so I think they can help you to and from bed and the bathroom for a little while now.

Grandma Ellie: I need to just “go.”

Me: GRANDMA! Come ON! Don’t DIE on me, I have to get married in like a week you silly goose! *smiling, with a hug*

Grandma Ellie: eh. well.

So… she totally held on for me to get married on July 12. Then let “go” the following morning at the crack of dawn.

My Grandma Ellie (top right, next to her mother Lydia and my mamma and ME) was an incredibly strong, sassy Italian woman born Eleanor Santa Paolucci. She definitely died of her own will — she was not someone to be taken care of, she did the taking care of others; I believe she didn’t want that to ever change in anyone’s mind. She was easily the most glamorous person I am related to. When she wrote “Santa” on her Christmas gifts, we knew they were from her (and she wasn’t lying on the tag!). She used to throw parties and soirees when my mom was a little girl, and from the stories my mom tells I picture them in a really enchanting-black-and-white-1950s-movie setting. She traveled the world with her pilot husband, my grandfather David Holdsworth (who died of cancer in 1992, on Valentines Day), and nearly every trinket and bauble in her house has some fascinating back-story (oh, your grandpa got me that in Singapore, where by the way I had to wear a covering over my head whenever we went out in public!). She cooked Thanksgiving dinner every year, and every year she swore she wasn’t going to do it the following year (even though she thrived on the praise). On Thanksgiving and Christmas, she always broke out the good “goldware” — she is the only person I have ever known to even own goldware (glamorous)! She is famous to anyone who has ever met her for her delicious, savory meatballs, as well as her propensity for making any dish ever a delicious gourmet masterpiece (with an every-time warning of “oh, I don’t know how this will taste…”). She had huge elephant ashtrays that I will never forget, mostly because I have battle wounds from falling into them so much while I was growing up (example in the photo above!). She love love loved when I called her everysingletime I made spaghetti to ask for the recipe, even though I know it by heart. She also love love loved Adam, and the first time we went to visit her in Idaho 2 years ago it went a little something like this:

Me, walking through the door with 19 suitcases and sweat beading down my nose: “Hi GRAMA!!!”

Adam, walking through the door with his travel carry-on and nothing else: “Hi Ellie!”

Grandma: “Kids! Hi! Oh, heavens, ADAM! Put that down and come sit on the couch. Do you like beer? JENNY! Make Adam a sandwich — there’s pastrami in the fridge doyoulikepastramiAdam becauseialsohavehamandcheese… JENJEN! Beer’s in the fridge. Take off your shoes.”

And that is how Adam will always always always FONDLY remember her. Luckily, I have other fond memories. : )

The last time I saw her, I squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead. I’ll admit that there have been worse goodbyes in my life.

I am extremely proud to have been influenced by this beautiful, wonderful woman — and can’t wait to give her beautiful name to my first daughter.

Love you Grandma. Thanks for waiting until Sunday.

Mrs. Jenny Fast

PS. I totally made Adam like 12 sandwiches during our camping trip honeymoon in honor of the Great Sandwich Incident of 2006. And I got him cold beer.