She grinned at me. “I’m flattered. And please, I passed the point of being offended when someone asked my age decades ago. I’m ninety-three.”
I was stunned. “Ninety-three?”
“Yes, I’ve been here a long time. I still have four surviving children, nine grandchildren, and thirty-eight great-grandchildren.”
“That is amazing.” I suddenly felt ashamed. The woman had so many people who loved her and I had never truly been loved. “I’m not married,” I said in embarrassment. “In fact, I’ve never really had a relationship, but I’m kind of getting close to someone now.”
“Don’t fret, child. You still have plenty of time left. I can feel it in my bones. You’re going to be here for a long, long time.”
A tear formed in the corner of my eye. Not if Jude has anything to say about it, I thought.
“I can tell something is troubling you,” she continued. “But trust me, this too shall pass and life will go on. There were times when I begged the Lord to put me out of my misery, especially when I saw my youngest child kill himself right in front of me.”
“Oh my gosh! What happened?” I asked and then regretted it immediately. I didn’t want her to have to rehash bad times. “Never mind. That is none of my business.”
“It helps me to talk about it sometimes. Chad had everything going for him. He owned his own business, had a home, a nice car, and everything to look forward to. Then he hooked up with the wrong woman and she had him so taken with her that when she decided she wanted to move on to something better, he couldn’t handle it. Chad came to my house one night, a Saturday night. I remember because I was on my way to play bridge. He came in, sat down on my sofa, told me how much he loved me and always would, and then he took a pistol out of his jacket and shot himself in the side of the head.”
Something made me want to throw my arms around the woman and hug her. “I’m so sorry.”
She embraced me back. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She let go and looked me in the eyes. “Just do me one favor.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t let your troubles break you down. Be thankful for every day, every single day, because you never know when it will be your last.” She wiped a tear from my right cheek. “Even at my age, I still embrace life. I come to church every Sunday and praise the Lord, every Saturday I play bridge at the local hall, and every Tuesday I have dinner with my man.”
Now I was really shocked! “Your man?”
“Yes, can you believe it?” she asked jokingly. “Even at my age, I can still pull them.”
“Is he your age?”
“Honey, finding a man my age would be like searching for an ear of corn in a watermelon patch.”
We both laughed.
“No, I have a younger gentleman who comes calling. He’s just a baby: seventy-four.”
“Wow, I never thought I’d hear a man in his seventies being called a baby.”
She giggled and ran her fingers through her silver hair. “Me either, but thank the Lord that I’m here to be able to do it.”
“So every Tuesday you have dinner together? That’s so romantic. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me, too, and dinner is not all we have,” she said suggestively. “I make the same meal every week: smothered pork chops with gravy, collard greens, creamed corn, and sweet potato pie. He always brings a bottle of sparkling cider and a bouquet of roses. We sit and talk, we eat, and then we make love.”
I was so amazed at her openness and I realized why she looked and felt so great for her age. The woman was loved by a man and she loved him back. That was something I had never had but something I was determined to get.
The hall was thinning out so I decided it was time for me to head on home. “Would you like for me to walk you out? Do you need a ride someplace?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I live a block away and I enjoy the walk. One reason why I’ve lived so long is because I’ve always been active. I watched way too many of my friends wither away and most of them would have lived a lot longer if they hadn’t just given up. Just because you age doesn’t mean you have to act old.”
“I totally agree with you.”
She gave me one last hug. “Take care of yourself, child, and maybe we can sit together again sometime.”
I smiled. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” She started walking away. “Wait! I don’t even know your name.”
She turned around. “Just call me Nanna. That’s what everyone calls me: my family, my friends, and the people here at this church. I’m like a mother to everyone.”