How do you put a human being into words? How do you describe what someone meant to you? What their soul felt like? It is impossible and overwhelming.

I can tell you that Nancy Young Gillis was a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. She raised 3 beautiful daughters, worked a dairy farm, went to church, had various jobs in the city of Starkville, but still always found time to create things. All her family’s homes are scattered with her little creations- paintings, ornaments, pretty figures of Santa. She baked the best bread, made the best stewed tomatoes, and always tried to feed you if you came by. But it all falls short. 

She raised me and my siblings. We grew up just down the road from her, and our childhoods were filled with summers on her porch, Christmas in her kitchen, and weekends helping her shell peas. She made my mom help make such a large batch of crabapple jelly that you still find jars packed away in pantries. 

She loved a good deal (and Dirt Cheap). She loved full sets of china and red Le Creucets pots. She was sassy and funny and had and edge under her sweet voice. She drove us all crazy. I remember her dragging me down every row of the grocery store when all we needed was a bag of sugar. She always felt cold. There are so many little moments, feelings, memories and I can never hope to express who she was to anyone who didn’t know her. 

I read somewhere that losing someone to dementia is like suffering two losses, two deaths. The first one comes slow…when she gets lost driving to the same store she’s driven to for 30 years, when she leaves the oven on overnight….and before you notice, she has to be reminded who you are, she forgets names and faces. She doesn’t eat. It is slow and it hurts but I watched my mom and aunt’s (and all of us) deal with it. Put on a happy face. Try to be patient. You do not have the time or energy to grieve. 

The second loss comes quick. She was gone. We hadn’t been able to visit her in over 5 months. I hadn’t been able to hold her hand or argue with her about eating her dinner. I always meant to call but part of me knew she wouldn’t recognize my voice and I couldn’t get up the courage. Just like that, Nancy Gillis passed on August 6, 2020.

We all loved her, and she loved us. That is all that really matters. She is at peace. She is herself again. She has got all the pieces back that dementia stole away. But she left and empty spot with us.

I love you Granma. I love you so much. 

Amanda Gaudin, August 7, 2020