Nana, you loved to buy gifts for me and my sister. For our birthdays (both in April), you gave us ceramic angels with wings and a number representing our current ages. (My sister was 11 and I was 13 at the time.) We received Madame Alexander dolls at Christmas – most notably, characters from the book “Little Women.” You also gifted stuffed animals to us – creatures from Beatrix Potter’s imagination that wore fancy clothing. These creatures included Peter Rabbit and his friends – a mouse, a hen, a duck, a fox, a squirrel, and a frog.

You took care of my sister and me while our dad worked and our mom attended classes to earn an accounting degree. We all sat in your informal living room and watched TV – episodes of “General Hospital” throughout the year and the ACC basketball playoffs in spring. You were a huge fan of Ralph Sampson, a champion player at the University of Virginia at the time (early 1980s).

Our family would meet you at your house (a 15-minute drive from our house) on Sundays for home-cooked dinners. You served pot roast, green beans or fried okra, yeast rolls, and sweet tea. We all talked about the previous week, discussing what we did at middle school or work and describing various activities. I always looked forward to spending this precious time with my core family members.

My sister and I often stayed over at your house on weekends. (On rare occasions when I stayed with you by myself, I slept in the bed with you.) We all got up on Saturday morning and went shopping for school clothes at Nachman’s, a local department store. Then, we ate lunch at Shoney’s, a casual chain restaurant. My sister and I usually ordered cheeseburgers and fries, sodas, and hot fudge cakes. You sat by the window and chain-smoked after finishing your meal; the acrid smoke curled around you and permeated my food.

The months went by and soon it was Christmas Day. My family gathered again at your house and exchanged gifts. My sister and I sat in front of the fireplace and posed for photos in matching green and red plaid dresses. All of us laughed and told stories after opening our presents.

Later that night, my dad told us that you were not feeling well. I know now that you had not seen a doctor in several years due to being worried about having some unknown illness.

A few weeks later, my family visited you in a cold and sterile hospital room. You were diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. After I visited the gift shop and bought you a silly magnet to lift your spirits, I sat by your bed and held your hand while listening to your raspy breaths. You died within a few short months.

I was unaware then, but your death would serve as a defining period of my life. I was soon diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. My family did not deal well with your loss and the ensuing grief that surrounded us. I buried my feelings instead of expressing them in a healthy way. My parents felt that my behavior was erratic, so they sent me to a counselor. That, in turn, was the genesis of many years of strife with and estrangement from my parents. Our close-knit family was devastated and shattered.

I fought hard to regain a positive attitude about life over the ensuing years. After working with many medications, psychiatrists, and therapists, I possess a better mindset now. I reconciled with my immediate family members. I can now reminisce about you without crying and I proudly claim my role as your namesake.

I have encountered three near-death experiences as an adult. I wrecked my car and landed in oncoming lanes of traffic when I was 21. I developed sepsis after an E. coli infection when I was 30. And I became severely anemic as a result of a hiatal hernia when I was 45. I survived all of those occurrences and am convinced that you serve as my guardian angel. Though I dearly miss your physical presence in my life every day, I know in my heart that your spirit is with me through it all.