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Ann Abla Street, 72, of Fredericksburg died Monday, May 17, 2004, at Greenfield Assisted Living. Mrs. Street was a member of St. Mary Catholic Church.

She is survived by four sons, John A. Street of Churchville, James J. Street of Caroline County, Edmund J. “Mike” Street of Fairfax and Richard A. Street of Spotsylvania County; a daughter, Veronica M. Street of Richmond; a brother, Joseph E. Zogbi of Las Vegas; a sister, Carmen Bradshaw of Bay Shore, N.Y.; 18 grandchildren; and two great-grandchildren.

She was preceded in death by her husband, Arthur Frank Street; a brother, George E. Zogbi; and a sister, Rosanna Jenkins.

The family will receive friends Sunday, May 23, at Found & Sons Funeral Chapels, Fredericksburg, from 6 to 8 p.m., with a rosary at 7 p.m.

A funeral Mass will be celebrated Monday, May 24, at St. Mary Catholic Church at 11 a.m., with Father Stefan Starzynski officiating. Interment will follow in Quantico National Cemetery.

The family requests that expressions of sympathy take the form of donations to Mary Washington Hospice, 2300 Fall Hill Ave., Suite 210, Fredericksburg, Va. 22401.

It still hasn’t sunk in. . . I had my moment when she first went into the hospital, and when my son asked to see his great-grandmother “because Pop (who has been dead for 17 years) said so,” almost hours after my grandmother said she had to stick around because my Pop told her to because of Jonathan and Matthew. I don’t pretend to understand it all, I just go with the flow.

I can say that I had a chance to spend some time with Nanny. She picked on me for kissing her forehead too much. She told me how beautiful her great-grandchildren were. She told me that Pop wanted to know why I didn’t talk to him as much. She told me on more than one occasion that I was full of shit (her way of picking on me). When she was at the first nursing home, she asked me if she could go home. I couldn’t get her out of there of course, but I told her I would do everything I could to try. She held my head and kissed me four or five times and smiled as best she could.

Last Thursday, I was able to pray a rosary over her. The following few days she slowly went downhill, finally getting a fever on Saturday and passing shortly after midnight on Sunday. I’d like to think that helped somehow.

It’s tough. I spent nearly six years with Nanny. Even before that, when my mother was working in Washington while we attended Montfort Academy, we went to my grandparents and did all the normal family things. Going to the grocery store, craft stores, taking her to chemotherapy when I could, listening to stories, watching Murder She Wrote and HGTV. When Jonathan was born, she got two years of that little one in the house. They loved each other so much. I really miss my Nanny, and I’m watching to see how Jonathan and Matthew are going to deal with it all. When I was younger, I remember seeing Pop in the casket. I didn’t think about it, but I just looked and understood that Pop wasn’t really there – it was just a body. Maybe the same experience for my sons? Perhaps. I don’t know.

This was a bad weekend for family. A friend of mine lost his own grandmother, and another lost his wife over the weekend. So there are many things to pray for. I have confidence it will make sense in the end.

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