Happy Birthday Nan

My Nan would have been 78 today. She died, unexpectedly in July 2002, about 6 weeks after Oliver was born. This is her, with Oliver in hospital.

I like to think she hung on to see him. I grew up close to my Nan, I was the first grandchild, and somehow she made me feel special. I know for sure she was just as close to her other grandchildren, but I felt special anyway. She was probably the only person who ever made me feel that way. For sure she was the only person I have ever been close to that I have never fallen out with. She never judged me - through my failed first marriage and then when I married Mark, who had 4 children with two different women (shock horror), she treated them, and him, well, and with the same regard as she treated her other great-grandchildren. She was not phased by the modern lifestyle in that respect. She was a proper Nan, who grew up in the gritty north with bread and dripping, and she cooked, unafraid of lard and over-cooking veg. She knitted and grew blackberries in the back garden. I always ate the red ones and can still hear her yelling 'leave those bloody blackberries alone!' out of the kitchen window. I saw her weekly, at least, and enjoyed her company. She did the 'Sun' and 'Star' newspaper bingo, in reams of cards on a clipboard. She loved Coronation Street, and it is with great fondness that I watch it now and imagine her pretend shocked 'Oooohhhh' at the storylines.....

My Mum reckons she knew she was going to die, by account of the fact she was poorly anyway - she'd been in hospital a couple of times with pneumonia, and she was diagnosed with slow cirrhosis of the liver, despite VERY rarely drinking alcohol, (although she had smoked copiously over the years much to my often-voiced disgust), and the last time she visited the Doctor before her death, she refused to let anyone go with her and was pretty sketchy about his diagnosis, apparently. So, I believe, because I choose to, that she held on to see Oliver - she always shook her head and said I would never have children - it was a joy to tell her I was pregnant, and she was genuinely happy for me.

My Dad came around to tell me, on a Wednesday evening in July, to tell me she had died - and whilst I remember it clearly, and that I never remember feeling shocked, I don't think I will ever stop wishing she was here, and remembering her with a heavy feeling of loss.

I have never been to see where her ashes were scattered - but I often think I might. Happy Birthday Nan, and I miss you.