A Tribute to Brenda Cumming, Nana

Nana's hostas transplanted to our garden

Last Friday, August 19, there was a memorial service for Nana, Brenda Cumming.  Nana was G-Bug’s maternal grandmother who passed away on Wednesday, August 3^rd after suffering through her own battle with cancer.  G-Bug, her mom and her husband were with her when she passed.  She was able to take one final trip to the Seattle area to visit her brother and had her children along to say goodbye.


My plan was to write a tribute to her on this blog, similar to the one I wrote for her husband, Papa Jer, and I had some ideas on stories; but after listening to some of the other people tell their stories, I had a better sense of what I wanted to share.  I didn’t stand to speak at the service, but what follows is what I wanted to say.

One of Brenda’s best qualities was to accept you for who you were.  Whatever history you brought with you, whether it was how you were raised, the lifestyle you lived, or the choices you made, she would embrace and value it.  However, she expected the best out of you, too, and wanted you to be the best “you” you could be.  It was in those moments when you didn’t do your best that you could face her Scottish temper or a debilitating “Oh, Honey!”

Nana was also a very generous person.  If you match that with her always trying to do her best, anything could become an event.  If you’ve ever been to a Thanksgiving at Nana and Papa’s, you know what I mean!  During the first Christmas I spent in Minnesota and away from my family, Nana wanted to make sure I didn’t feel left out.  She bought a stocking for me and filled it with small gifts and had several larger gifts under the tree.  I was going to get gifts from my family anyway, so I really doubled up.

And she would always be generous to you.  One night, I was late in picking up G-Bug at Nana’s house on her overnight visit with me; this was years later, after Amy and I divorced.  I called to let her know I would be late because a boot had been put on my car.  I had to get $100 and wait for the guy to remove it.  When I eventually got to Nana’s, she had $60 ready for me.  I think that was all she had in her wallet; otherwise she would have given me more.  While others wouldn’t have accepted the money, like her co-worker who had a speeding ticket that she offered to help pay, I did, but only because I had to.

At the time this happened I was living in a studio apartment and donating plasma to make ends meet.  I had three working light bulbs in the apartment as the others burned out and I placed the remainders in strategic locations; one by the bed, one in the bathroom, and one in the kitchen.  Around my birthday, G-Bug’s mom asked her what I would like for a gift.  She thought a moment and said, “light bulbs.”  I must have looked like a kid getting an X-box when I opened the package and found a four pack of bulbs. 

I tell you this story because the weekend after Nana passed, G-Bug was staying with me and one night I found her crying.  I crawled into bed with her and we talked.  She was worried she might forget Nana and already had a hard time remembering her voice.  I told her we had lots of pictures of Nana and probably some video, so she shouldn’t worry.  However, she has something more indelible than pictures.  She has Nana’s sympathetic and generous spirit, and that will always be with her.  I think all of her grandchildren have it and the people who knew her have a little of it, too.

Someone mentioned Nana’s mischievous nature and I got to see that as well.  I think it was just before Amy and my wedding when Nana took me to a salon to get my hair cut.  As I sat in the chair, she joked with the stylist, “I know you don’t have much to work with, but try to make him look nice anyway!”  I blushed to the roots of my hair, I had a lot more back then, and wanted to hide, but I wasn’t offended by the jibe because I knew there was no malice in it.  She teased me because she saw me as part of the family and I was glad to be included.

It is going to take some time to come to terms with Nana’s passing, but as the time passes and the pain subsides, I will always have great memories of her and for that I am thankful.

Before I conclude this entry, I want to send a special message to my family.  I know we don’t stay in touch as often as we should as we are spread out across the country and that makes it difficult to be close-knit.  In spite of this fact, I realize I’m lucky to have you in my life and am grateful for it.  Although I don’t say it often enough, you are always in my thoughts and I hope the best for all of you.  You have all my love.

A Tribute to "Papa Jer" Tomlinson

Jer was smiling down on us.

This post was a long time coming, but I allowed myself to be distracted by business and family trips.  I wanted to write a tribute before continuing with the blog.

On Tuesday, May 10, , our family received some very sad news.  G-Bug’s step-grandfather, Papa Jer, succumbed to an arduous, but ultimately too short, battle with cancer.  He passed away peacefully at his home, surrounded by his wife, Nana; G-Bug and her mom, and his eldest son.  He was able to beat the two month prognosis he received in March, to celebrate another birthday, and had his full mental faculties.  It must have been hard for him to know his physical capabilities were slowly fading away, but his family took some solace in being able to engage with him like before.  He died as he lived, as Papa Jer.

I first met Papa Jer when I was living in Boston with G-Bug’s mom, Amy, almost 20 years ago.  They were coming up the stairs in our apartment building and after I said ‘hello’ to Nana, Jer piped in with “Is this (David)?”  I’m not sure if he actually called me David, but he definitely called me by another name.  I thought he was trying to get a rise out of me, but wouldn’t take the bait and said, “Yes, I’m David.”  It was only when Nana corrected him did I realize he really didn’t know what my name was.

During that same trip the four of us had lunch at a local bistro and were walking back to the apartment afterwards.  We had just crossed CommAve when someone had called out to us.  We turned to see a cab driver had stopped and was pointing out the window toward the front of the car.  Both Amy and I started to tell the driver what the next street was if he was to go straight across CommAve.  The cab driver shook his head and pointed more emphatically toward the street in front of him.  One of the womenfolk had dropped her glove.  Sheepishly, I hurried to collect it.  As we continued our walk home, I was feeling a little silly and stayed mum for a few steps.  Jer, either to break the tension or because of his natural curiosity, stated, “I was wondering where you were trying to direct him.”  I’m pretty sure he had a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips, and we both had a laugh at the faux pas.