On December 14, 2007 the world lost a wonderful woman. Mary Bell, my Nana, was loving, stubborn, gracious, and gentle. She was strong in faith and rich in family. She has been called back to God, joining her husband Edwin (1924-2006). She leaves behind three wonderful children (Michael, Nancy, and Mary Ellen) and seven grandchildren (Kasey, Lindsay, Courtney, Shane, Michael, Matthew, and myself). She will be missed by all of her family and friends. There is no one who has ever come into contact with her that did not sense the kindness and warmth that she possessed.

If you ever spent any amount of time with her, she would talk your ear off with stories of her grandchildren, her courtship with Edwin, or anything else that came to mind. No story was ever too small to tell, and if you made repeated visits you would be sure to hear the tales many times over!

Over the past year, ever since my Papa passed away, I had spent more time than I ever had with her. During that time I had the opportunity to hear those stories so many times over that I was able to finish them for her, adding some embellishments just to get her riled up. Not that she could ever get truly riled, more like argumentatively amused.

Anyway, during the year we had a weekly appointment. Each Friday I would leave work and head to the nearest pizza place, pick up a pie and then show up on her doorstep. I was getting so many pizzas that the owners and employees of the pizza place knew to expect me and knew exactly what I was going to order. Of course, this would cause the occasional issue with the rare occasions that I wanted something different.

So, I would get the pizza (medium cheese, no toppings no matter how often I suggested barbecue chicken) and when I arrived in the driveway, if it was warm out, she would be sitting on the porch waiting for me, but she would not move to let me in until I had the pizza in hand. However, on those cold days, I would be forced to stand on the cold stoop holding the pizza and maneuvering my cell phone into position to give her a call. See what happens without a doorbell?

Nana liked her pizza, but only one piece. I always offered more, but she would always respond with the same thing: "You know me, only one piece!" I always countered with the one time back in March, I believe, when she did have a second piece. Nana was particularly hungry that day, and the pizza was particularly delicious. You know just how good food can taste when you are really looking forward to it. Let me tell you that it was more than that one day in March. Every Friday I was sure to get out of work on time so I could get that pizza and have dinner with great company. Seeing her face light up as I walked through the door with that instantly recognizable box made whatever had gone on at work that day, or all week, seem entirely insignificant.