I'm gonna throw something your way. It was a gut feeling I had driving back from the Goodwill store.
I live not far from a popular running/walking/biking trail. Its usually always teeming with body-nazis and eco-ninnies. But yesterday, around noon, a certain stretch was almost bare. As I drove past, there stood a lone coyote in the middle of the trail. Many of the coyotes around here are sickly, yet this one looked like a coyote should, wirey and mean. But he just stood there, looking around, nose to the air, stock-still, deciding between back or forward.
My gut said that's Lange. I realize your grandmother stirred up something in you, something you're thinking you've forgotten. There's remembering the past and then there's trying to recreate the past, two totally different things. If Nora was half the woman you said she was I don't believe she was encouraging you to do the latter. She was trying to help you go forward, Lange.
Trust me though, I'm the pot calling the kettle black.