My Grandmother died on Monday. It seems weird to post about it, but also kind of rude not to. She was a strong woman, who served in the war, emigrated to Australia with small children, and maintained her independence til she died. Here she is when Lolly was around 9 months.
Here is what I said at her funeral yesterday:
Here are some things about
my Grandma.
When I was a little kid, she
would let us ride around on her back. She was the horsey. She read
us books, and told stories. This was some pretty awesome Grandma stuff.
I remember her house at
Veron St (I always think of her townhouse as “the new place”). At Veron St there was (originally) an
outdoor loo that I found scary and fascinating. There was a long yard
that backed onto the railway. The trains punctuated life at that
house. There was a garage, and once my Uncle bought out his old science-y
stuff, and let us hold drops of mercury in our hands. It was silver and
the small bead darted across the palms of my sister and I. We all used to
play cricket in the back yard. Grandma had an old exercise bike that
sounded like a hurricane. There was tea to drink, and a table in the
kitchen. I remember students who would come for tutoring, and sit at the
table. We stayed quiet.
Grandma was interested in
what we were doing, what we were studying, and what we were reading. I
had some wonderful conversations about reading and literature with her,
particularly in my 20s. We both loved some of the greats, particularly
the classic British women authors, like George Eliot and Jane Austen.
She loved England, and went
back every couple of years for most of her life. She had friends there
she'd known since she was a girl. She saw family, and toured
castles. I always admired that, and her deep connections to place,
family, and friends.
She wrote, and wrote.
Letters and cards. I have a card from her that my Mum saved from when I
was born, and one from my first birthday. Which is beyond lovely, what a
wonderful connection to have. She would also get the irrits if we didn't
write back enough to suit her. She was stubborn, and had expectations.
She taught me things as a
kid, but she never managed to teach me cryptic crosswords. I just never
got them, no matter how hard I tried. They always (and still) make me
feel a tad stupid. Sorry, Grandma!
I remember going to
play tennis at her club, she had a white dress. It was hot and there was
a place to sit under the trees. I watched Wimbeldon for many years to be
able to converse sensibly with her about tennis. All tennis feels like my
Grandmother to me. She played her whole life, seriously, into her
80s, and then she took up table tennis. That rocks.
When I was young, she had
cats, they were all strays, who had come to her through various cat ways.
Those cats always reminded me of her. Perhaps she should have been freer
in her life to go her own way, like a cat. It must have been hard at
times for a smart woman born in the 20s.
She had seen active service
in the armed forces, and overseas service, in the war. I wonder what she
saw over there. She didn't talk much about it, but once many years ago
when I stayed with her, she showed me some photographs and spoke about being
away from home. I wish I knew more about that time in her life.
She was not always the
easiest person, she was stubborn, and set in her ways. She wanted things
to be how she thought they should be. But she was smart, funny, and
fiercely loyal to her family. She had a strong faith, and built strong
connections with people. I was not always as close to her as I could have
been, as an adult, but she had a great impact on me and my life. So I
want to say thank you, Grandma. And travel safely. And I remember you.
