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Remembering you...

Remembering you....
To be honest with you, I have struggled with this for some time. It has been the one thing in my life that has scared me beyond what I ever imagined. You expect to lose your grandparents, it's evitable. But the crippling fear that over came me that day was completely unexpected. Being the over thinker I am, I still to this day ask questions; questions that will never be answered. Questions that can never be answered. I simply cannot understand, but it's something that I have come to accept. It's been four years since you left us. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about you and remember those funny quirks of yours. It feels like an incredibly long time that I actually had a conversation with you and heard that infectious laugh and watching everyone's faces light up when you walk into a room. Four years. It's always this time of year that I find myself incredibly sad but I thought that this year I would actually sit and write something to you, I know that you won't be able to see this but I will somehow feel some kind of comfort in doing so. This is for you Nannio....

When we think of our nans or grandmothers we are normally met with an image of a warm, kind caring lady who loves nothing more than fuelling us with sugar and spoiling us rotten. And even if this is the case for you. You were far more than just a nan to me. Not only was you kind, caring and loving you had the best quirks, some that even my own daughter imitates.  We had a really good bond, I would like to go as far to say I was your favourite but we can't really tell the others because it will just cause havoc. So one of your favs is probably the best way to describe me. You use to call me your little princess and even though that crown has well and truly slipped, seeing cards written by you calling me your little princess still makes me smile from ear to ear. We had the best bond, it was such a strong one, you were a friend, a second mother and a person that so many of us loved. Remembering you this time of year is always tough. It's a time that reminds me that you are no longer here, no longer living in the moment, creating the memories or seeing us through the milestones. It's tough.
Last year, as a whole was probably one of the toughest times that my family and I have ever been through. It is times like these that I need you more than ever. You were such a good listener and gave amazing advice, even at times where deep down I knew you were right, but I was too stubborn to see at the time. I know that I get that from you. You were always there no matter what. You would always know the exact words to say and I know that in a way you were there with us all in those troubling times, but it's hard times like that that I really miss you. You have left a great big whole in my heart and even though four years on I thought that it would somehow ease, the pain is just as raw as it was four years ago. I know that you are there sitting down with a strong cup of tea and your knitting no doubt watching over us. But it actually breaks my heart, even now, that you are no longer here to see us through these tough times, to laugh at the good times and giggle at the silly times at my expense no doubt. Some days I will sit there and watch my little girl and think about how she didn't get to meet such an amazing person like you. It was such a shame you couldn't hold on longer to meet her. She is pretty amazing, you would love her so much. I miss you every time we crack open a bottle of fizz on Christmas morning (you loved a glass of blue nun)  or even see an almond slice. I miss you most of all when I feel like there isn't anyone to talk to because they just wouldn't understand, like you did.


We all knew that your time was going to come, as we watched you go from a strong woman and saw what heartbreak can do to a person. Losing Grandad was super tough on everyone. When someone suffers from an illness, you think you’ll know what to expect when they eventually pass away; you like to imagine that you’ll be somewhat emotionally equipped for it. I was under this impression too, and for the most part I was right. I was composed when we  received the message that he had passed away, and rushing to the hospital to say our goodbyes. Watching your goodbye was the hardest. I can't even imagine the pain that you went through that day, but as strange as it may seem you were also the strongest women I know. You was there for everyone else. I think along the way you forgot about yourself. You did so well to wait a whole four years without your love, I know it was too painful at one point where you basically told me and Tony that you were finished with fighting, you just wanted to be with Grandad. You held it together for so many years, more than I would be able to bear. In a way, most of us wanted Grandad to go peacefully, it was hard to watch someone who was strong, wilful and a hero for many of us grow to such a weak and frail man. But your passing was wicked, it was awful and it still feels raw. It was so quick, it's cruel. I didn't have the time to say goodbye, we didn't have time to get use to you not being there anymore, it was too soon. You have missed out on some of the most important milestones in my life, you never got to meet our incredible little girl, the one you prayed and prayed for. That fills my heart with hurt and pain.

My sadness for you comes over me at the most inconvenient times. The other day I saw an almond slice, A BLOODY ALMOND SLICE and I got so teary. Oh how you adored these. Last year we went on a holiday to Yorkshire with Mum and Dad and that was tough. Yorkshire somehow feels completely empty without you, and I think that's why I find it so hard to visit. It's not the same. I appreciate and feel grateful for all those beautiful memories we made a family, I know we never had much money when we were growing up, but you and Mum never let on. We have those memoires that we cherish and even giggle at. I will never forget the holiday where we all went camping five adults and us three children, however I don't think you can class Uncle Paul as an adult though. I will never forget the first night when Mum came running into the tent and she tripped up and jumped onto the blow up bed for you to go flying into the corner of the tent. One of the best memories. Not forgetting when the boys came into the family, you adored my Tony. You accepted him as if he was your own grandson and I have to thank you for that. You have helped him so much than you ever realised. You are still, one of the most important people in his life and he will never forget what you did for him, and neither will I.
When we lost you, I know I find myself scanning all those beautiful memories that we have of you. We tend to want to remember the big and brilliant, for the sentimental and the sensational. But I often overlook the charm of the wonderfully ordinary moments in between. Those moments watching you make a cup of tea in the caravan on the many holidays to the dales, those moments watching you knit with your leg wobble, trivial things we take for granted but would kill to experience one more time when it’s all over. It those forgotten memories that I want to savour from now on. So I wanted to end this post to you all and ask you to savour those moment where loved ones are stood in front of you in the flesh, touchable and huggable and real. Embrace the image of them cooking or drinking from their favourite mug or smiling as they walk through the front door. These are the moments which punctuate every beautiful, understated day, so hold on to the value of each moment before it becomes a memory. I want you to remember those moments because one day, it will be the last time you'll ever experience them and you'll find yourself in my position yearning for one last kiss, one last hug or to even hear a laugh that is completely infectious on those around.

As the stars shine tonight and that moon glows,
I shall look out for you on the other side of the moon.
I love you.
God bless.
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