Tears, Memories, Regrets - Remembering a special Nana

“Moses was 120 years old when he died. His eyesight was sharp; he still walked with a spring in his step. The People of Israel wept for Moses in the Plains of Moab thirty days. Then the days of weeping and mourning for Moses came to an end.” Deut 34:7-8

As I read this last night I was struck by the grief. That it was allowed for. It was ok. Sometimes we think we just have to hold it all together and be strong, to just get on with it. But it’s ok to stop, and weep and cry and mourn. To grieve. For days and days they grieved. Together. They wept.

Little did I know, when I read that last night, that today I would be grieving the loss of a precious Nana.

Today the world lost an amazing woman. A beautiful, kind, generous, selfless, strong, loving Woman.

And it’s overwhelming.

I was alone when the news came. It came as a shock and it came too soon. Way too soon.

The tears came fast and steady, and my mind filled with questions.

SO. MANY. QUESTIONS.

Breathing is an effort. Something so natural doesn't seem to be so natural at a time like this. It’s like the wind has been knocked out. Breathe.

Brenton arrives home with the kids. They enter cautiously. “Mum, are you sad?” “Are you sad cos your Nana’s died” “Are you sad mummy? A little bit sad or a big bit sad?” They cuddle me. Evy cuddles me for longer than usual.  Zac asks “Can we watch a movie?”

Brenton comes in and holds me. I sob. “Can we watch a movie Mummy?” Because in the grief, in the heartache. Life goes on. The kids still need to be fed. They still need our attention. I actually want the world to just stop. STOP! But it doesn't.  We have a meeting tonight, the last thing I feel like is a meeting.

I was going to bake a cake for tonight.

She taught me to bake. During the weekends spent at Nana’s and Granddads. Bananna cakes. And scones, the mixing had to be just right … not too much or it’d spoil them.

The memories begin to cascade. She taught me so much.

Colouring in between the lines. How to draw without tracing. How to sew. How to play droughts. How to bake a cake.

It’s in the oven now.

She was there. She was present. And when you were with her, it was like you were the most important person in the world. And as a child, she would get down and sit on the floor with me.

And she would defend me.

I knew I was loved.

She taught me blood wasn’t always thicker than water.

‘Step’ never ever came into the equation. Family. Pure and simple. I knew nothing else.

When Granddad died she made sure I had a moment alone with him. Shooing everyone out of the room to “Give Polly some time.” I’ll be forever grateful.

Polly. I don’t remember her calling me anything else. “I love you Polly.”

People will be arriving soon. Ah the meeting. We should postpone it till next week. The phone rings. It’s for me. I can’t talk right now, my voice wavers and breaks. Brenton talks. A friend offering love and support. Offering to visit. “Are you sure a meeting is a good idea?” Last nights scripture is repeating on me. We aren't sure, but we are going to meet anyway. Because this is family right? And grieving happens in community right?

She was there for my graduation. For my 21^st.

Ahhh! My 21^st. I made the dresses for my party with her guidance. If it was too tricky

 I’d ring her and she’d talk me through the process. Eventually I took them to her and she helped me complete them. She probably ended up making 90% of them.  

During my flatting days she’d join my flatmates, my mum and I for dinners out. Nights filled with hilarity as we talked “The birds and the bees.” Not the normal conversation between a grandmother and her granddaughter I’d imagine? So open. So honest.

At my engagement party, my wedding,  travelling to visit us when our first child was born. She’s been there.

And she was there in the in between times. When life was trucking along as usual and when it was hard. She was trustworthy. She would just listen. And then offer wisdom. Such wisdom. When I moved further away, she was just a phone call away, always ready to chat. And as I got older, she confided in me too. A deepening friendship.

So many memories.

And regret.

Regret that I text first, second and third instead of just showing up over Christmas, so I could see her and tell her how much I love her, how much she means to me, how her influence in my life has shaped me.

Regret that I didn't try harder.

Regret that I didn't try to call yesterday when it came to mind.

I had no idea what today held.

The cake is cooked and the kids are in bed. People are starting to arrive. They come in. Brenton starts the meeting and looks at me, we don’t tell them. Not yet. We go about business as usual. At times my eyes well, but I pull it together. The meeting draws to a close. I bring out the cake and it’s good.

Brenton shares the news. I cry. There is an empathetic sigh from those gathered. And we pray. I can’t quite pull the words together, but they pray for me. And they cry too.

They cry with me.

Tears.

They didn't even know her. They never ever meet her. I haven’t known these people for long enough to share much about her. But they sit here with me, they share my pain and they cry too.

This is family. Grieving together in community. She taught me so much, but if there’s one thing that stands out above it all tonight, the gift she’s left me with that’s most prominent, her legacy in my life; it’s that family is not defined by DNA.

It is so much more.

Nana, I’ll miss you. More than you’ll know I think. I love you, Polly xo

"God is striding ahead of you. He’s right there with you. 

He won’t let you down; he won’t leave you. 

Don’t be intimidated. Don’t worry.” 

Deut 31:8

“Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in him,

for he shields him all day long,

and the one the Lord loves rests between his shoulders.” 

Deut 33:12