Sometimes life blesses you with chance encounters with unique individuals that leave your world forever changed. These individuals possess such rare gifts that you simply cannot return to being the same version of yourself after meeting them. Our family lost one of those unique individuals recently—our beloved Nana.
Nana wasn’t our blood relative, but she might as well have been. She was as loved and cherished by my family as any biological member.
I first met Nana several decades ago while working as a youth counselor at a summer camp in England. I was rushing down a hallway toward the registration tables on the first day of camp when I rounded a corner and (literally) bumped into her.
She was standing in the middle of the narrow hallway talking to her three grandsons. She looked at me with surprise, and in her quaint British accent, asked: “Do you speak Spanish?”
Given the awkward collision that had just occurred, I thought the timing of her question to be odd. Yet for reasons that I still cannot explain, I responded with a perhaps even more odd: “No, but I speak French.”
Nana immediately smiled, tilted her head to the side, leaned forward, and gently touched my arm with interest. Seeming to forget about the collision, she said, “Really? Now, you must tell me, where did you learn to speak French?”
I looked at her grandsons and, in near unison, they rolled their eyes as if to say, “Oh no, here she goes again.”
What followed was a delightful conversation, during which I learned that Nana’s grandsons lived in Spain and were visiting her for the summer. English wasn’t their first language, so she was worried about dropping them off at the camp.
I doubt my irrelevant disclosure of speaking French (in truth, the few French classes I had taken in school pushed the limits of my reply’s accuracy) did much to ease her worries, but I like to think our subsequent conversation did.
That chance encounter that day would turn out to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and not just between Nana and I. Her eldest grandson would later come to live with my parents as an international student. He attended college in America, got a job, met his future wife, and became a naturalized US citizen.
In the years that followed, Nana’s grandson would become my surrogate brother. We would gather for holidays, go on vacation together, and celebrate countless birthdays, graduations, weddings, and other similar milestones.
Our visits that included Nana were especially cherished.
Nana cared deeply about people, but little about what people thought of her. She was larger-than-life. She had an endearing personality that was a majestic mix of eccentricity, authenticity, and charm. When it came to cultivating relationships, she was gifted beyond measure.
In fact, Nana possessed the rarest of all good teammate gifts: the ability to make everyone she encountered feel special.
If you asked any of Nana’s friends, neighbors, children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren who was her favorite, each would confidently say they were, and their belief would pass a polygraph test.
Losing a loved one is never easy, but losing someone as unique as Nana somehow stings a little more. Deep down, you cannot help but wonder: Who’s going to make me feel special now?
The best way to squelch that feeling is to shift your focus from me to we and realize that their real gift wasn’t making others feel special, it was showing you how to make others feel special.
Their example is their real legacy. And now, you must accept that it’s your turn to take up where they left off.
Can you offer compliments to the insecure? Can you encourage the discouraged? Can you share an uplifting smile? Can you tilt your head to the side, lean forward, gently touch an arm and show interest?
Of course you can.
Though a rare gift, there is no unique physical trait required to possess and extend this gift. Making others feel special is a talent accessible to all. Good teammates embody this belief.
Saying “rest in peace” somehow seems like an inappropriate way to end this tribute because I doubt Nana’s allowing anyone on the other side to experience any rest or peace. She undoubtedly has them dancing and singing, filling their souls with joy and excitement—the same way she did on this side.
As always…Good teammates care. Good teammates share. Good teammates listen. Go be a good teammate.
