Make It Perfect

Lil exclaimed, “Mum! Nan’s asleep with flowers all over her bed!!” as Nan’s coffin was wheeled into the chapel ready for the funeral service.

It made me smile.

Nan was an avid gardener and I know that she would have been more than happy with the vibrant arrangement of pink flowers that adorned her coffin.

In January we lost our Pop and while we were happy that he had moved onto bigger and better things we all felt sad for Nan. Sad that she had lost her companion of almost 67 years of marriage. Nan suffered a stroke a little over a year ago and hasn’t been able to walk or talk since. I felt so sad when I would see her…she was always such a chatter box and we knew she had so much that she wanted to say but couldn’t get out. Although Nan seemed to be in good health and spirits since Pop passed away, it is obvious that they weren’t meant to be apart for long and she quietly slipped away to be with him again last week. This year, I have had quite a few people comment that my family deals with death in such a positive way. Of course we are sad and will really miss our grandparents, but there is joy and hope in knowing that we will be together again and it is a wonderful to know that Nan and Pop are free from their physical ailments now.

Nan’s funeral service was just beautiful. Just as she would have wanted it, I’m sure. She had requested for all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren to sing “I Am A Child Of God” during the service. It was a very emotional moment for us all, not only because we were remembering Nan but I also felt such power standing there with over 40 of my cousins and second-cousins who would not be here if it wasn’t for our heroic grandparents.

It started raining when we were at the grave site – Nan would have thought it perfect for the garden 🙂 She had planned her funeral a few years ago and asked that her five sons and son-in-law carry her coffin. I can only imagine how they must have felt, laying their Mother to rest and am so grateful for each of them and the wonderful example they are to me.

One of the things I really love about my family are the little children (and there are always a lot of them!) They were all so facinated with Nan’s grave and had a great time throwing roses and flower petals and talking about Nan sleeping in her bed 🙂

I love you Nan and until we meet again, will hold your memories close to my heart.

(Oh, and for the record…I think I may be the only person in the family who actually LIKED Nan’s orange jelly with grated carrot – served as a side with cold roast meat and boiled new potatoes!!!)

(Taken from the archives, 7th February 2009 after my Nan had suffered a stroke leaving her unable to move and speak. She passed away peacefully last week to join her sole mate in heaven.)

Nan,

If I could have just one more day with you, this is what I would do…

I would knock on your door and let myself in as you are calling out, “I’m in the garden!” and you would be happy to have visitor pop in unexpectedly.

I would sit with you one last time as you show me your photo albums (for the 50th time), and listen as you tell me who everyone is and how they have been a part of your life.

I would follow you around your garden, admiring your talents – tasting the first green bean of the season, ooh and aah over the dahlias in bloom, and help myself to a few handfuls of raspberries and strawberries while you wash a bag full of freshly picked carrots for me to take home. Your garden is your pride and joy.I would cringe as you get the lolly jar down from the top of the fridge and give Oscar and Lil an old marshmallow each – hardened and chewy from sitting there for so long.

I would ask you to teach me how to cook your cream puffs, sponge cake, meringues and jelly bags…Dad has been asking me to get the recipe from you for months…and I haven’t. And now it is too late.

I would teach you, once again, how to work your CD player and then write the instructions down for you so that you can do it for yourself when you are alone. And then you would tell me that it is too confusing and you probably won’t be able to work it out, but could I put some music on for you anyway and make the CD repeat itself so that you don’t have to worry about it later.

I would use your talc-powder smelling bathroom and laugh to myself as I go to the sink to wash my hands and see the basket full of 30-something different shades of lipstick to match every outfit you have.

I would ask you if you have any sponge cake in the fridge, and of course you do. And I would cut myself a big piece and you would sit at the table with me and have a little piece because you have diabeties and probably shouldn’t be having any at all!
I would listen as you tell me about your most recent health ailments and complain about your hands…weathered and scarred with sun spots, scratches and cuts and you would remember when they were once young and fair.

I would take a look at your newest clothing purchases. Fuscia-coloured blouses and turquoise slacks.

I would ask you to tell me about when you and Pop first met, about your wedding day, and what it was like being a mother back then. Then we would compare it to what life is like now and realise that some things are better and some aren’t.
I would smile as you offer me the latest copy of “Women’s Weekly” magazine after you have teared out the “Gardening by the Moon” page because you swear by gardening by the moon.

I wish there were just one more day to spend with you in your home Nan. Instead I am sitting by your hospital bed and it is quiet. It is hard to talk to someone who doesn’t talk back. I watch your eyes dart furiously around your head, knowing that you are desperately wanting to tell me so much. Are you cold? Tired? Scared? You can only squeeze my hand weakly and look into my eyes.

Your life has been full and rich Nan. What a wonderful family you have produced and an amazing example you are to us. I will always want one more day with you.