You can probably guess where this is going.
Those of you who saw #MySundayPhoto this week will know that the start of the new year brought with it the death of my Granny, my dad’s mum.
She was 95 (and a half – she’d have wanted me to add the half) and had pneumonia, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, and we all had a chance to say goodbye.
Even so, her loss is keenly felt and I’m so sad she won’t get to meet her fourth great-grandchild, although she did feel him or her kick before she died. If only she’d hung on for another month.
I’m finding it especially strange preparing for a birth in the wake of a death – buying newborn nappies while wondering what to wear to her funeral – but I guess that’s life: it carries on regardless, and the new baby is her legacy.
As always when someone dies all sorts of memories come flooding back, so I’ve put mine together in a last letter to my Granny.
A last letter to my Granny
I’ve never met anyone quite like you,
You let us get away with anything from as young as two.
From jumping on beds,
To climbing the coal shed,
You indulged us something rotten,
Which will never be forgotten.
You’d give us salt for our crisps,
And stuff the larder with gifts,
Like fancy biscuits and cakes,
Which you let us eat until our tummies ached.
We always had lots of fun,
Like the time we had to run,
Through the street in bin bags for coats,
Before it turned into a moat.
You’d say what you saw,
Which could have been a flaw,
But your observations were always so funny,
And usually on the money.
Your legacy is the children,
Whose lives have just begun,
We’ll make sure your memory always lives on,
Because your love can never be undone.
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