Thursday, 26 February 2015
Grandparents are the bastions of childhood. To them you are ever young, ever the snotty child with food on your face, ever in need of spoiling, although the means of achieving that may alter over time. They always have time, time that they probably didn't have when your parents were young, time to talk, time to play, time to enjoy childhood that precious second time around.
My Nana passed away on Saturday, peacefully and with her two daughters by her side. She was much loved and will be much missed, and we all have happy memories of time spent with her. For that we are lucky and grateful, She was a wonderful grandmother, she loved children and was always willing to play tiddly winks, read the same stories over and over, and bake cherry buns. She made the best stew - my brother had my poor mum trying to emulate it for years! (I think she got there with it) As I grew older we developed our own relationship, I always asked her about her life during the war and as a young woman, about her own family, her own parents and grandparents. We looked at the old family photos together and she'd share anecdotes - I wish I could remember more of them now. We'd have a naughty glass of sherry and I'd crochet while we sat together and chatted. She had a great sense of humour, a dry wit and always a twinkle in her eye when she was teased. She lived in her own home until October, which she had shared with my Grandpa, and was always determined to do so. She wanted to live, and live she did. She was still going on outings with various clubs, went on holiday in September, and played cards regularly. I hope I have inherited her determination and zest for life.
I'm grateful to have known my Nana, to have had that special time. I've visited her on my own since I was a little girl and always enjoyed our time together. She was ill and suffering, and now she is at rest, reunited with Grandpa and probably still watching and sighing with exasperation when I don't put butter on my potatoes ("how can you eat them like that, they're so dry!") We will carry on, just as she would have wanted, and we will remember her always.