In February 1997, I moved to San Francisco to live with my Nana, Bernice English, as her health declined. Until her death in December 1997 we shared our days and the details of our lives. Through this bittersweet experience, I have found a special appreciation for our elders, which led me to volunteer at Little Brothers – Friends of the Elderly.

I made the decision to live with Nana quickly, so I questioned whether my life experience had prepared me to handle the emotional challenges. I had fears, but knew I wanted to be the one to share with her the difficult days ahead. I wanted to be the one to comfort her when she lost her ability to do things, to be the one who listened to her as she reminisced on her life and recounted family stories. In the hallway of Nana's house hangs a plaque: "God never asks about our ability or our inability but only our availability." I was inspired by this plaque to trust that God would provide me with all the strength I needed.

My favorite memories of Nana during that last year are when we had guests and I listened in on her conversations with her peers. She would dress up and I’d brush her hair, getting the curl around her cheek just right. Then I put out the fancy snacks on crystal and china, setting a festive atmosphere for the visit. It made me smile to hear their version of sowing wild oats. Nana and I spent many evenings alone in the living room, chatting about world and local affairs and family history. Sometimes, if I prodded her enough, she sang for me; Nana had a beautiful voice. Every Saturday night she asked me to join her in watching the Lawrence Welk Show. Sometimes I listened to the Champagne Sisters and the rest of the gang, but usually excused myself for the hour and went off to do other things.

During this time, I developed a new perspective. The Nana that held me in her arms and sweetly sang to me was now relying on me to care for her. I knew Nana was independent-minded and it was my goal to assure her of as much self-determination as possible; yet I had to make sure she didn't get into situations where she might get hurt. This was a delicate process, and fortunately we usually came to agreement on how we would do things.

I learned how to communicate with Nana when she was in a state of dementia. At these times, the way she talked was different but her heart was the same; I tried to respond to the person I knew her to be.

Nana passed away on December 22, 1997. Through our time living together, Nana had become my best friend and spiritual inspiration. The day Nana died it was she who comforted me as I cried, knowing she would be gone soon. Nana’s boundless faith inspires me to this day.

Sometimes, even when we don't have faith in ourselves, a little seed of an idea is planted in our hearts. It's up to us to search our hearts and see what opportunities are right in front of us. The very kind of relationship I was seeking was waiting for me with my Nana, a relationship of the celebration of life, experience, and affection.