Funerals give you a lot to think about and tomorrow is my Nanna's funeral. My Grandma is my only last grandparent, and I'd like to think that there are at least a couple more decades in her yet!
When a grandparent dies, nothing about it is any less painful but we expect that when we grow old, this sort of thing will happen.
But it seems the more painful things are the memories they leave behind because suddenly, you're faced with all the great reasons they existed in the first place and wish they could still be alive to create many more great things.
There's also that air of regret. All the things they never experienced and the joys they are yet to see happen.
Now, my Nanna lived a good and full life and i'd like to think that she passed away not regretting a single thing in her life.
I'm sure there were things that she wished had happened differently but she did things a lot of people her age aren't courageous enough to do.
So in the wake of our last goodbyes to her, i thought it would be fitting to jot down the memories that are imprinted on my heart....
She was the backbone of my mum's side. I always used to give credit to my Granddad because he favoured me and made me feel like a princess, i was his little doll, but in essence, all he did was feed us bedtime furry friends and chocolate picnics and make us fat. But not enough credit was given to my Nanna, who really, pulled everything together. She did a lot of sewing, i remember her teaching me knitting but her sewing was more about holding her family together. She worked behind the scenes and looking back, i think a lot of things ran smoothly because of her tireless efforts.
She washed our clothes, she cooked our meals, she planned out the days that we spent on the farm. She did the little things other adults were too mature to do, like take us on long walks to the mailbox and back or praise us for being such terrible tennis players, she had more patience than some. We took trips into town and spent days by the river with our packed lunches. We'd always help Nanna pick out the fireweed and burn those damn weeds to hell! hahah....The way she'd wipe down benches and cook meals, peel the vegetables. She played board games, tippit, and helped us draw spirographs, we played endless games of uno and skip-bo. She always had the bread, banana skins and sugar cubes to feed the horses. She wore singlet tops and shorts that were far too short. She used to read us bedtime stories and she'd always have the mattresses made up for us to stay. She was always the one who was waiting on the verandah for our arrival. She'd make us weetbix and vegemite on toast, that she'd cut into squares and we'd watch to see how many willywagtails would eat the crumbs she'd put out for them in the morning, she'd always have her favourite and it always seemed to be a blue one. I remember one time watching a movie about Nadia the Russian gymnast, and using logs on the farm to impersonate a gymnast, she was all-too encouraging. The only music i ever heard was the nutcracker suite and i can't remember if that was her favourite or Granddad's. My Christmas present would always be the same as my cousin who was the same age as me, only one of us needed to open it to know what was wrapped beneath the others. My memories of Nanna weren't just about what i remember but also the smells and the colours, the textures of things, the way things felt to touch, lots of greens and oranges, vintage retro colours. The way our skin would feel after a long bath and the pat of a talcum powder patting thing. The smell of the landrover, the smell of the rooms, the way her vanity was laid out with perfumes and jewellery and brushes. The feel of the carpet under our feet because we'd been told to leave our shoes outside. And the absence that will be felt will be the endless birthdays when we don't receive birthday cards, the presence of her company at all family events, there will just be one missing and perhaps now, I am the shortest family member. Always the loudest singer but always such a good and valuable lady. She had a zest for life, an adventurous and inquisitive spirit. She believed in goodness, in education, in justice. She smuggled bibles into China and taught English in Peru and perhaps she passed the same sense of hope and belief of humankind down to me, perhaps this is her legacy that I can carry with me into the world.
You lived a good and full life Wilma Anderson! You will be surely missed, for the rest of our days!!
