Friday, 6 October 2017
The Flowers Remind Me Of You
The theme for today's post is 'Flowers'.
I'm not going to write about flowers per se, but instead, the thought that comes to my head when I think of them
I'll spare you the long winded list of everything that I found fabulous about her. Im sure most of us could write an essay on how perfect our Grandmothers are/were. My favourite things about her were her imperfections. I once wrote her a poem about bluebells. She said she liked it but next time I should write one about daffodils, and gave me the first line that should be included. These are the things that make me giggle when I think of her.
I also admired her ability to take shit from nobody. I think she passed that trait on.
When I was 16 she came to stay with us for a while as my Grandad had recently passed. Although they were renowned for their bickering (my Grandad would often stick his tongue out at her behind her back, and I remember an alarming spat over a jam tart once), he was the love of her life.
She had not been staying with us long when I had a dream. I dreamt my Grandad was in a Greenhouse and I asked him what he was doing. He handed me a rose and told me to give the rose to my Nan.
A few days later I went out with my friends for the evening. Before I left, my Nan said I looked Beautiful.
They would be the last words she would ever say to me.
The next day my Mum and I found her in bed. She had passed away through the night. We always say she died of a broken heart.
More recently, my six year old has been questioning death. He has fears that I'm going to "grow old and die" and he'll be left without a Mum. I've tried to reassure him, but every few days I was finding myself having the same conversation and giving the same reassurance. Yes, I will die eventually, but not for a very very long time.
I couldn't seem to reassure him. He needed to hear that I wasn't going to die at all.
So after thinking about my Nan one night, I decided to take a different angle.
I told Oliver the story of my Nan. I explained that sometimes, if a person is really special and they are incredibly loved, they never die. They live forever.
They live in the memories you have of them.
They live in the stories you continue to tell about them.
Their legacy lives on.
I told him that my Nan will never die, because I think about her every day, I talk about her often, even to people who never knew her. I even named his sister after her
Oliver seemed happy with that.
And realistically, I can't tell him when I will die. I can't promise him I'll be around for as long as I'd like to be. No one knows what the future holds, and the hard truth is too much for six year old little shoulders to bare. But what I can tell him is that I hope when I do finally go, I made my mark, and was loved so much that I could never truly die.
And I hope that someone will be reminded of me, when they smell the flowers.
Just like Gwyneth