I was asked once in college to recite my matrilineal line:
I am Kelly Sue,
Daughter of Polly Ann,
Daughter of Patricia Ann,
Daughter of Leona Sarah,
Daughter of… some other strong-willed and difficult woman, I’m sure.
I don’t say that to be derogatory, I know of what I speak. I am most certainly willful and can, at times, be difficult. I call her my Nana, but you all knew her and you know my mother’s mother was indeed grand. I am proud to take after her in a number of ways, some of which are not the most… warm and fuzzy.
I am not known around my house for my nurturing bedside manner. I have little patience for self-pity and would much prefer that spilt milk be cleaned up than cried over. Be warned: if you spill that milk on my carpet, I will have a fit.
Nana could certainly kiss boo boos and wipe tears and hug the hurt away, but if that didn’t do the job, neither would she hesitate to pat me on the bottom and send me back outside to play – she had work to do. Nana most certainly knew how to get things done. I believe that gift of hers for living in the present, planning for the future and never dwelling on the past allowed her the focus to accomplish a great many incredible things, some of which, by her design, I have just learned about over the last few days. She was an incredible woman, born in a humble valley and capable of moving mountains.
My husband and I are fifteen weeks into the forty-week journey of welcoming Nana’s great-grandchild into the world. Everyone in the family is hoping for a girl, but I insist on referring to our unborn child as a “he.” I do this because, as previously established, I am stubborn and wish to be difficult, but also because I know that even in this twenty-first century, there are still many opportunities not equally available to men and women and, like my Nana, I wish my child’s future to be limited only by his abilities and the outermost boundaries of his dreams.
Of course, over the last few years I did note she was softening a bit. Unsolicited advice came more rarely and often with an introductory sweet like, “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, but…” or “I know you don’t need my advice, but…” The gesture made me smile. And though I am still this side of 40, if barely, perhaps I’ve softened a bit, too.
Two weeks ago, I held my Nana’s hand at her bedside and the intensity of my emotions announced itself in tears.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“It’s because I love you,” I choked out in response.
“Well,” she sighed, ever exasperated with me. “No need to fart about it.”
I laughed of course, as was her plan, and in the days since her passing I have cleaved to that phrase as my mantra. I miss Nana, I grieve her passing even as we celebrate her life, but I won’t fart about it. Life is short and there’s much work to be done.
I am Kelly Sue,
Daughter of Polly Ann,
Daughter of Patricia Ann,
Daughter of Leona Sarah…
And as I embark on this passage into motherhood, if chance and the universe once more conspire to remind me that some decisions are not mine to make and I bear a daughter, I hope, sincerely and without reserve that she is a difficult child. I hope she questions authority, challenges my beliefs, demands honesty and gives it in return, even occasionally when she’s not been asked. I hope she takes after her great-grandmother.
And if, one day, she should be by my side, holding my hand as I am ill, I hope that she has learned her bedside manner from her father.
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mini-series from Marvel Comics and for co-writing 
with 
I think most of us are better at promoting other people’s work than we are our own.