I grew up surrounded by her love and strength and buttered toast fingers.
This weekend just gone, she would have turned 91. I have missed her every day since she's been gone, so I thought I would put up something that I wrote for her and read at her funeral, though if you were there, doubtless you wouldn't have been able to understand me through all the crying.
To Nan,
I want people to know how wonderful you were, how brave, how strong. I want you to know how much I loved you, how much I still love you even now that you’re gone. I respected and admired you so much.
You used to mind me when Mum went out.
You taught me to always sift flour twice when making cakes. I’m too lazy to do that. Maybe that’s why your cakes always turned out better than mine.
You made me scrambled eggs for tea when I was sick.
You listened to my new CD’s with me and pretended you liked them.
You made the best sponge cake out of any of us so we all gave up trying.
You and I used to go to church with Mum. I remember one Sunday we went and you scratched your leg for the whole hour because you felt tickly... even when we got up to get communion. On the way to the car you realised the thing that was tickling you was a grasshopper that had gotten tangled in your petticoat. You set it free and laughed.
We used to play games together until I moved away. You tried to teach me poker, but I could never remember the rules. You used to bet with Anticols and their wrappers, which were worth less. We would play dominos for hours and you never once let me win, because there was no lesson in that. Since you, I’ve never found anyone that could beat me at it.
I’ll never know how you fit such spirit into your small frame. You saw so much, lost so many. Friends, brothers, sisters, your husband, your daughter, but were still the kindest and most patient person I knew.
I’m sorry I wasn’t with you more towards the end, Nan. I let other things get in the way. But I always loved you. Will always love you, and will forever carry a part of you in my heart.
You used to mind me when Mum went out.
You taught me to always sift flour twice when making cakes. I’m too lazy to do that. Maybe that’s why your cakes always turned out better than mine.
You made me scrambled eggs for tea when I was sick.
You listened to my new CD’s with me and pretended you liked them.
You made the best sponge cake out of any of us so we all gave up trying.
You and I used to go to church with Mum. I remember one Sunday we went and you scratched your leg for the whole hour because you felt tickly... even when we got up to get communion. On the way to the car you realised the thing that was tickling you was a grasshopper that had gotten tangled in your petticoat. You set it free and laughed.
We used to play games together until I moved away. You tried to teach me poker, but I could never remember the rules. You used to bet with Anticols and their wrappers, which were worth less. We would play dominos for hours and you never once let me win, because there was no lesson in that. Since you, I’ve never found anyone that could beat me at it.
I’ll never know how you fit such spirit into your small frame. You saw so much, lost so many. Friends, brothers, sisters, your husband, your daughter, but were still the kindest and most patient person I knew.
I’m sorry I wasn’t with you more towards the end, Nan. I let other things get in the way. But I always loved you. Will always love you, and will forever carry a part of you in my heart.
Rest in peace.
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