On the 30th of November my grandmother died.
She’d had a massive stroke on the 26th and we rushed up to be with her. She wasn’t conscious during those last days, but she was responsive in other ways. I spent two of those nights sitting with her, with my mother and aunt one night, and my mother and brother another. I got to share stories with the family who were able to come, stroll down memory lane, and say all the things I needed to before she passed. It was a really precious time.
It still doesn’t seem like it was enough.
She was cremated a few days later. Those attending had the chance to draw on her plain pine coffin, or write messages. It was pretty cool.
This month on the 20th we gathered again – more people this time, not just her immediate family – to celebrate her life. The memorial was great and I heard a lot of stories I’ve heard before, as well as some new ones. Saw people I hadn’t seen in over a decade, spent time in her home, looking through all her treasures and hearing stories triggered by different items. ‘I remember when’, or ‘do you remember when?’
She played such a huge role in our family, and it’s strange that now as the executors of her will work toward resolving that, and items start to leave the house for their new homes, I feel sadder than ever before.
As my uncle said earlier today, until that point it seemed like she might just come home. It was a nice fantasy. One that is over.
R.I.P Nana. As my littlest said we know you loved us, we’ll always love you and you’ll always be in our hearts.