Reminiscense, Regret and Relatives

At Meeting on Sunday I was looking at the beautiful blossom through the window, and suddenly realised I had completely forgotten the anniversary of Nanan’s death.

There was wonderful blossom on the trees lining her road on the day of the funeral, and I remember my mum saying that even if it rained it was at least pretty, or some other such thing.

It’s been 12 years, and this is the first year I’ve not done anything, even if it’s just stopping and thinking/hoping/praying about her for a while. She has a rose at the crematorium in Doncaster, and a tree dedicated to her at Clumber Park, where we used to go on family days out.

I wonder if it’s because of Matty (in a good way!) I’m happy (mainly!) and contented, much more than I think I ever have been (scarily) and dwelling less on the past.

I wish she could meet Matty, and him her.

It makes me so sad that I forgot, I just don’t know what to think about it.

Nanan was a  huge part of my life growing up – I used to get sent to stay with her when I was naughty (which was a LOT! – I did wonder about the thought process behind sending me somewhere I liked as a punishment) and we had such fun!

She helped my mum a lot when I was little, before my step-dad came along (and lots after, but particularly when mum was a single-mum), and she was my primary babysitter, and an absolute staple in my life.

We had the same humour, laughing and laughing about slipping up and saying the trees falling off the leaves.

I remember watching a recorded video of a horserace rewind – a strange thing as the sound still worked! We ate a whole box of dairy milk between us one night too.

There’s a story that is repeated often (unfortunately I don’t have a first hand recollection) about us all driving to Wales for a holiday and stopping off at a playground. I went up and down a slide shaped like a tree, and Nanan followed me, but didn’t fit through and got stuck!

I read a poem at her funeral, that I wrote, about her, what she meant to me.

One of the things I spoke about was her owl collection. All sorts of ornaments, different sizes, shapes, colours, all over her flat and bungalow. When she died my mum said that they owls were mine, and she would keep them untill I settled down somewhere. I’ve been in this flat for 4 years this summer, and I still don’t have them.

Mum did an MA a few years ago, and as one of her projects she made was a set of drawers and cubbyholes, and asked each of us what reminded us of Nanan – I can’t remember most of them, but my cousin, who was very little, associated custard cream biscuits :~)

Some people think it’s creepy, but I have Nanan’s ashes in my living room. They lived at my Aunt and Uncles for a while, until my Aunt got freaked out, then at my mums, and now at mine. She lives by the cd player and cds, and one of her handbags is on the door handle.

I still have times when sadness and a sense of loss is so overwhelming, I miss her so much.

Nanan

(bad photo of a photo)

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