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.
