A GRANDMOTHER'S LOVE

 

This time last year, my gran was still alive. She had been suffering from dementia for a few years which was hard to deal with.

Often when I went to visit her she was terribly upset, crying out in distress. You see, in Gran's mind she had gone back in time, back to Summerland.

 

  When Gran saw on the news the chaos unfolding in Douglas, she knew in her heart that we were involved. Without hesitation, she began the journey to be with her family.

 

  I remember her fighting back the tears as she told me one day of the moment she came to the hospital; of the dreadful shock that took the strength from her legs. It wasn't her "Ruthie" she was looking at. This child was black with soot and the skin was hanging in charred strips from her hands and legs; she was crying out in agony.

 

 From that moment on, Gran was by my side. I remember photos she had of a small child, with a face whiter than the pillow she was lying on, a little doll tucked in next her her. That child was me.

 

  Through the agony of many operations she was there, trying to comfort me when the pain was unbearable. There was no way to get comfortable, my whole body was on fire once more. My back and stomach now as raw as my legs.

 Imagine this kind, loving woman having to stand by helplessly, there was nothing she could do!

 

  When mum was taken back into hospital, Gran then had to juggle looking after Lynda with going backwards and forwards to visit us nearly 20 miles away. I will never know how she managed.

She was a hard worker her whole life, and I used to look at her hands, her little hands and wonder how on earth she managed to do all the things she did.

 

 Gran was always there to wipe away my tears when the other children had been cruel to me-making everything all right. She was my whole world.

 

 It hurt so much in her latter years to hear the cries of anguish as I entered her room. She was crying because she thought "the children were dead." She talked of a tall policeman coming to her in the hospital and her fear that he was bringing news she could never bear.

I was unable to soothe her fears, as she had mine, she no longer understood.

 

 Last September we got the news I had been dreading my whole life, my beautiful, kind, loving Gran was dying. That was what we were told, there were no sugar-coated words to soften the blow.

I sat by her bed as she gasped for breath; as helpless as she had been all those years ago. At five in the morning her breathing changed. I grasped her hand as she turned her face to me in a rare moment of recognition, she tried to speak but no words came out.

I told her how much I loved her and thanked her for everything she had done, her tiny careworn hand tightened a little in mine, then she was gone. A part of me died when she did.

 

 For a little while I sat by the bed just holding her hand in silence, as she had held mine during those long, lonely, pain filled nights;

after Summerland.

 

 

In memory of Nanny Jean;

Granny, Great Granny and Great-Great Granny.

She slipped away on 29th September 2013,

the void will never be filled.