Memories Past

I know I've done my blog for the day, but perhaps I feel I missed out something which has been dwelling in this bizare litle mind of mine. With preparations for Rememberance Day around me I am made aware of another date which I usually make every effort to forget, but I think for once this year I am going to take the time to remember someone. Death is life coming full circle, and should be expected, but however obvious the signs may be it always comes as a shock when it finnally arrives.

All of us fully expect to lose our grandparents during our lifetime. By our late teens most of our elder generation have passed on. Not in my case. My mother has a full set and my Dad still regularly hides from the chastising phonecalls from his father. And so, for me my rememberance in actual fact falls with a particular person. For most the loss of an elderly family member is an accepted fate, one which saddens us, but leaves us fond memories. One is not expected to grieve their loss for many years as 'they had a good innings'.

So this is why dear reader, I find it dificult to express in a rational sense why the feelings of loss of this particular person still haunt me. I find it externally ridiculous that despite many other confessions, this is the singular blog which has brought me to tears. I feel that I should have accepted this loss as a part of life, except when my Great Grandmother pased away I grieved not only the loss of a grandparent, but that of my singular maternal figure. This seems harsh to my mother and hers. However, as a baby screaming with colic, it was Nanny who would hold me and walk me up and down until I slept; as a young child Christmas did not start until she arrived; when my parents screamed at each other, it would be her who sat me on her lap and talked to me about when she first saw me; I was 'her holly'; it was her who showed me how to press flowers or would take the time to watch me rush about on the lawn or spend frustrated hours teaching me how to knit; it was her who gave me my interest in music, singing old songs to me. It was Nanny who told me about my mum's real dad and how he had died - she explained to me how terrible it was for her and how she carried on because she still had my mum and then me. She accepted open emotion and at the same time showed amazing bravery - I remember spending countless days with her cuddled up being told what it was like when she was little (she was born in 1902), and then during the war when my grandad was born. I remember how soft her hands were even though they were worn and wrinkled. She was a champion knitter and no baby in our family went without some form of knitted object from her - all of these items were lovingly pressed under the seat cusions of her sofa. She read The Sun of all papers and refused to have a bank account, instead storing all her cash in her wardrobe which we found when we had to clear her flat. I remember her headscarves and how she smelt, and how she would wash her hair every sunday in the kitchen sink for either me or mum to set in rollers. I'd taken it for granted that she would be at my wedding, and see my children as they arrived into the world. I guess at that point I thought she would be here forever. She didn't get to see either, but I'm pretty sure she would have approved of the outcome of all three.

Why am I doing all this now? Because 14 years ago, she passed on and since the day she left us I've never spoken out that I have all of these memories. These were mine alone to keep safe. And she should be remembered. When she passed on was the point in time where I learnt to suppress emotion. This only occured to me after much blogging. Don't talk about it because it just upsets people. You don't want to upset people do you? No-one wants to see you cry. Don't be sad. Then other things happened, and instead of telling people, I didn't upset people, I wasn't sad, I made sure no-one ever knew. Well, now they do through here and so this also becomes a safe place for these memories.

But I haven't forgotton, I know this, our first child was named after her for just that reason. I refuse to forget. And I'm doing this now, because next weekend is her birthday and I wanted to pre-empt that day before it hits me and have my short time to remember and accept that I do still miss her and yes that does make me feel sad, and even after nearly more years than I was able to be part of her life, she continues to remain in my memory. So for Charlotte Rosina Edwards, Happy Birthday xxx