In Loving Memory of Dorothy Groopman aka Our Nana
Love, Melissa and Dayna 

From Dayna: 

I consider myself to be blessed. I didn’t always think that. Our lives weren’t always easy, but we had the mighty power of 5, and that always helped us get by. You and papa always helped us to get by. 

I consider myself to be blessed because I had the pleasure of your love, your encouragement, your support for 30 years. So few people get 3 full decades of a grandmother’s love. This is why I’m blessed. 

You were my giggle partner, as you would call it. We’d look at each other and just laugh. Sometimes for hours on end. Sometimes for a reason. Sometimes for no reason at all. You loved to laugh. You taught me how to love to laugh, even when I didn’t want to. And I loved to laugh with you. 

You were a latch-key kid. Growing up in Brooklyn, and then Queens, and then Brooklyn again. Your life wasn’t always easy. But you were always happy. Always smiling. Always a beacon of light. 

You were little Dotty. Most obviously because of your petite stature, but also because of your age - the youngest of 3 siblings, the baby of the family. 

We share that. Being the youngest. The shortest. I may have papa’s quiet, yet witty personality, and a fraction of his off-the-chart intelligence, but I always loved when people told me they saw me in you. 

When I was little I couldn’t wait for our trips to Florida. I’d leap off the plane - barf bag usually in tow - and I’d give the full report on how many times I got sick. We’d get back to your place and you’d always have the perfect cure for air sickness: dessert! Chocolate ice cream, apple pie, fresh baked cakes from your cleaning ladies (who adored you), Hershey kisses or Sees candy from Howard that you waited to share. And Melissa got her reward for dealing with that annoying little sister who ALWAYS got sick that:  Honeybell oranges you’d specially order just for her. Go figure. 

Your trips to NY were always the highlight of the summer. We’d go 
to the beach. We’d go to the pool. To Montauk. Broadway shows. Forest Hills. We’d walk to Carvel when you were babysitting. 

One summer I didn’t want you to go so much so that I enlisted the help of my bet pal next door, Steph, to help hide your plane tickets. Or so the story goes. I can’t say I actually remember this, nor would I admit I was/am a cleverly conniving human being, but who am I to poke holes in what has become an epic family story. 

Over the years you and papa came to forgive me (and Steph), and your love for us grew. In fact, you loved all my friends and genuinely cared about them. Our deep bond with the Mann’s is something that is so incredibly special. I still picture you and papa sitting with Nonna and papa on the softball field. Nonna singing at your 60th wedding anniversary party. Lobster’s at the Levine’s. BBQ’s at the Mann’s. Recorded videos to Rachel in china just to say hello, and FaceTimes with Gillian to check in and see how NY was treating her. 

 How’s Casey, you would ask about my best friend in colleague. Jaime! The one who has red hair like you. You even made happy birthday videos for my work colleagues, just because they thought you were the cutest thing. Everyone knew you. Even in Amsterdam, you’re famous. You were nana to everyone. This is another reason I am so blessed. Because you’re my nana. 

You were always so proud of me. Even the most minor accomplishment had you beaming with pride. In the last 8 years you watched my career blossom with pure amazement. In the first years of working I tried to explain what I do. You’d call me up all excited: 

“I saw an ad in the Sun Sentinel. A new Celebrity cruise ship is coming!!!!”

 “Yes nana, I know. I’ve been working on the launch 18 hours a day for the last 6 months. Nana, was it an ad or was it a story about the ship written by a reporter?” 

“It was a story”. I’d smile. “Yes, that was my work. I got the reporter to write the story.” 

“But it doesn’t have your name on the article?” 

This conversation happened about 100 times over the last few years. 

But eventually you go it, and then I moved on to a new job with a lot more responsibility and new tasks that never really sunk it. But that’s ok. I have no problem with half of Century Village thinking I’m the CEO of HEINEKEN, first in the US and now of the full global operation at our HQ in Amsterdam. 

Speaking of work, I got my office sense of style from you. I always loved to hear the stories of how you would get dressed up every day. Beautiful dresses, matching skirts and blouses. The newest pumps that were en Vogue. Even in today’s biz causal office environment, I very often dress up, just to be like you. 

But nana, there’s so much more that we share. We’re fighters. Hard works. We’re persistent. We worry about everything (can’t really 
say thanks for that one). Yet, we’re so filled with love. We’re people magnets. We’ve never had an issue making friends. 

While living in Amsterdam has come with many perks, watching your decline from afar was not one of them. There was never a doubt in my mind I wouldn’t find a way to come home when this eventually happened. No amount of money, work assignment, or travel adventure could stand in the way. 

The strangest thing happened when I booked my flight. It was last minute, but I had a confirmed seat, only to arrive at the airport to see I was moved to standby. I immediately adopted nana trait #1: worry. 

 I have to make it home. I can’t get bumped. This is not happening. To my surprise, I then come to find out I’ve been awarded an upgrade to first class. Unheard of on international flights. I immediately knew right then and there, you were already watching over me. 

I take solace in knowing you are now at peace, that you’re long, hard battle has come to an end, that I’m the one here left on earth to do the worrying, and another guardian angel is looking over me. 

I hear your voice in my head, I carry your wisdom in my heart, I wear your jewelry with pride. 

Every time I put on a pair of pumps and go to work, I’ll think of you. Every time I giggle, I’ll think of you. Every time I touch down in the state of Florida, I see a Broadway show, I go to the lemon ice king, I’ll think of you. 

Your mannerisms will live on, your spirit will continue to guide our way. And I’ll continue to make you and papa proud. Perhaps I’ll even become a CEO one day. 

Because my dear, sweet little nana, you are forever etched in my heart and engrained in my soul. I love you. 

From Melissa:

Thank you for being here to celebrate the life of my Nana. She lived until 93, which is such a blessing. We are all so lucky that we had as much time as we did with her, and don’t take it for granted. Alani is now 2 and a half, and she loved her Gigi so much. She called her Gigi for great grandmother. When we were in NY, she always asked when we’d go back to Gigi’s house. Even in DC, sometimes when we were getting in the car, she’d ask if we could go to Gigi’s house.  We FaceTimed whenever we could, and Nana got such a kick out of Alani’s busy toddler energy.  I’m so lucky to have so many special memories of my daughter and grandmother together.

But truthfully, the last 3 years were a trying time for my family. Just before Nana’s 90th Birthday, she fell and broke her hip the night before she was supposed to fly to NY for a party my mom had planned to celebrate the occasion.  And it’s been a slow decline since then unfortunately. She was such a fighter, and it’s amazing that she lasted as long as she did. She learned that kind of grit from a young age. The youngest of 3, her father died when she was only 5 years old. People even suggested that her mother give her up for adoption, because her family was considered to be in such dire straights for that time. Instead Nana’s Mom Beatrice, (who I’m partially named for), and Nana, survived and endured. She walked home from school in Brooklyn with a key around her neck. And her brother Myron, (who Alani is partially named for), only 15 at the time, took on a father role for the family.

I recently learned that Nana’s wedding was on a cold February night, with no flowers and a dress her mom got wholesale from the garment district. Someone came into the Temple and said, “Where are all the flowers?” And then they saw Nana, and she was absolutely stunning. And he said, “Oh, THERE’S the flower!” And we have photos to prove it- she was the most stunning bride. She would’ve been a model if she had been tall enough- that’s what the agencies said when she tried. Ironic how her offspring and theirs are so tall!

But really, I tell you all of this because she made an amazing life for herself from absolutely nothing, and just truly had the most amazing character. She and Papa were the model of a happy and successful marriage. They loved their lives in NYC, and I think they loved retirement in Florida even more. Some of my best and most vivid childhood memories include our visits to Florida every winter, where we had the time of our lives together. Just doing simple things like shopping and going to the pool. It didn’t really matter, as long as we were together. And in the summers, they would come to NY and spend the whole month of July with us. I­t­ was the best part of the summer. We would just hang out, laugh, BBQ, and stand in line at TKTS to see the Broadway show du jour.

Even in college, I kept up my tradition of visiting Nana and Papa in Florida on school breaks, even on my own sometimes. I remember studying for a finance exam in Florida and Nana telling me that I’m all business and should enjoy life a little more. I took her advice to heart when I had Alani. I really didn’t want to miss a moment of bonding with her because Nana taught me the importance of being there for family. We had a small family, but we could not have been more tight-knit. And I was always grateful for that.

Nana, I always appreciated your enthusiasm for life, and that you were always my biggest cheerleader. I­t­ meant the world to me. Always a smile and a giggle, and a topical joke, yet the world’s biggest worrier. Such a precious and adorable person. I can’t begin to describe how much you’ll be missed.