Nanny's last pie

Friday night in the middle of the night I woke. I waited a moment and heard it again, a beep from the kitchen. I figured my brother had finally called back after we had gone to bed. In a sleepy haze I got up and checked my voicemail. In the darkness of the kitchen the phone shone a cool blue light as my mother's voice told me Nanny had finally passed away. The strongest woman I know, a true matriarch, endured a quick and serious battle with cancer, and finally decided to let go. Sighs of relief are inevitable following such a disease, though so sad and weighted. And relief for my parents who had done so much to maintain for Nan a quality of life that she deserved.

We drove out that evening and swooped Uncle Whoop up along the way in Islip. Saturday friends and family and loving sentiment kept arriving. My mom just wanted to be surrounded by love so that's what we did. The phaelanopsis above came first. Then this beautiful creation:
I don't know I've ever seen Sedum and Hydrangea used together in an arangement, although I am no floral design authority. I could see Nanny standing over it and marvelling at it, the way she would lightly touch her chest and nose forward with such peaceful curiosity.
Pop and color and beauty we made sure to have everywhere. Orange ranunculus and orange roses with paeony and hydrangea, pretty wow.
Eventually we gathered around the table to feast on fresh local seafood and veggies Mark had brought from upstate. The whiskey and wine were flowing. We sat and shared stories of the past, of boats and fishing and growing up on the water. We laughed about family and friends and the Worth siblings still calling the undertaker by his ancient nickname of "Tiger". Eventually Aunt Bonnie pulled out an apple pie and cut it up for everyone to have a taste. Before we dug in Bonnie said something that made my heart skip a beat. This was Nanny's last pie, which Bonnie had saved from Nan's last trip north. You see, nobody's apple pie was like Anne Worth's apple pie. Local apples, the perfect ratio of cinnamon to sugar, and a crust even better than you can imagine. The perfect apple pie is a phenomenon for many families, I am sure, but Nanny's hands forged an ideal version that was always the greatest we knew. "Often imitated and never duplicated" doesn't even come close. This was a real moment, a brilliant long life of adventure and hard work and focus and love encapsulated in a single wedge of apple pie. There is no question it was her finest.