A life less ordinary

It’s been a sad few weeks at Anderson towers. After what felt like a long struggle my lovely granny lost her battle with old age and passed away in Dorchester hospital. She had reached the grand old age of 93 and had been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember and life without her being around still doesn’t quite compute.

That soulless place was not where she should have been, but time, circumstance and our legal system don’t allow us to choose the manner of a loved one’s passing. At least at the end she had family there and knew she was loved, unlike many of the other poor old souls on that ward. As the weeks in and out of hospital slipped passed it became apparent that many of these old women never got a single visitor, their life’s stories slipping unnoticed away with them.

Well, not for my granny, easy as it would be to be sad at her passing, what she’d have told me to do would be to not be silly. To have a drink and to celebrate her life.

What a life it must have been too. Not just the stuff I can remember; throwing the glass of wine over someone who’d been rude at a party and hitting an innocent bystander, asking a family friend if he had ‘fuck me shoes’ after seeing germaine greer on have I got news for you. Not the granny who I will always remember cooking, pottering in the garden or shelling peas in the sunshine.

I just can’t imagine the things she must have seen, the changes in the world during her lifetime. Obvious things (although dramatic and world changing) like the world wars and moon landings are one thing, but almost everything we use in our day to day lives was invented within her lifetime. Radios, TV’s, pop up toasters, arc welders, band aid plasters, insulin, PEZ candy, penicillin, neoprene, scotch tape, frozen food, the parking meter, monopoly, cat’s eyes in the road, nylon, canned beer, LSD, first successful helicopter, ballpoint pen, computer, atomic bomb – and that little lot only brings us up to 1945.

What amazes me is that right up until the last couple of years she remained relevant in the modern world, still passing on those years of accumulated knowledge to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I think my wife’s proudest moment in life (apart from meeting me of course) was when the matriarch of the clan asked her to make the cake for her 93rd birthday.

Don’t get me wrong, she was a tough old bugger who could often upset people by saying things without worrying what people would think, but I don’t think she had a bad bone in her body. I guess she had to be tough having been a ward sister during WWII and then running a pub just far enough to be out of London to attract MET officers and CID during the 70′s – what dodgy deals were discussed in the woodman we’ll probably never know.

So tomorrow, after the funeral, we’re all going to have a party in her honour. We’re going to have balloons and jelly and ice cream. The chocolate cake which she never got to eat on her 93rd has been recreated. I’m going to raise a glass of scrumpy laced with gin in her name (don’t ask, another one of her wilder moments) and I’m going to laugh as the stories come tumbling out of those who knew her well.

Here’s to you granny, wherever you are. Oh and thanks. Life wouldn’t have been the same without you.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 24th, 2010 at 7:02 pm. It is filed under The Diary. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.