Something about loss had me revisiting and thinking about those I miss the most at times. I miss Sarah - the 21yr old me who was woken up by my parents and told my best best friend, only a week shy of 21, had been killed by a drugged up teen in a car on a straight road. But most of all, I miss my Nana - the lady who was part of a trifecta of women who raised me. Here is what I wrote for her funeral in January. Rest easy.
Most of us here would know the Beatitudes in some way shape or form:
- Blessed are the poor in
spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
- Blessed are they who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
- Blessed are the meek, for
they will inherit the land.
- Blessed are they who hunger
and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied.
- Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
- Blessed are the clean of
heart, for they will see God.
- Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
- Blessed are they who are
persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven.
If I could add to the Bible, I would add Blessed are the grandparents,
especially my Nana. I’m going to use
grandparents here as I can’t speak of Nana without remembering Grandpa who
passed 15 years ago as well. I was
amazingly blessed in that Nana and Grandpa took me in, not only during my
university years, but most school holidays before that.
Blessed are the grandparents who spoil and snuggle with you.
Blessed are the grandparents who hug you and hold you and hope with you
when life is difficult.
Blessed are the grandparents who prayed for you – but not just prayed
for you – acted on those prayers and supported you, driving down Island and packing
you up and taking you back up North with them so you could achieve your dreams
– even if you didn’t know they were your dreams yet.
Blessed are the grandparents who
pamper you – buying cocopops and tiny teddies for you even though you’re 18 and
starting University. Who had rice
risotto with a couple of slices of bacon beside it waiting for you when you got
home from a shift a KFC – and had washed the uniform from the day before as you
only had two and tomorrow it was meant to rain.
Blessed are the grandparents who worry – I think Nana was most excited
when she realised my restricted drivers license meant I’d have to be home by
10pm for at least 12 months. And even a
few years later – she would stay awake till I got home and knocked on the
bedroom door to tell her I was back.
Blessed are the grandparents who share, their homes, their hearts, their
life skills – I’ve never looked at roses the same way after living with Nana –
she shared her knowledge, her love and her passion about them with me. Pretty much every early still Saturday
morning during rose season we would be outside, me holding and pumping the backpack
and her spraying. I know where to cut
them while pruning and whether I should be using copper or something else on
them. I can still visualise the deck
outside the living room while I was there was filled with pots with rose
cuttings covered in plastic breadbags while she propagated them with her
brother Eddie.
Blessed are the grandparents who hold onto and share their
passions. As long as I can remember,
Nana painted. They were hanging
everywhere, in the conservatory in Millard Ave where I remember tea parties
with Carmen and Theresa. In my home my children are lucky enough to
have hanging some of the paintings she did for me. They are more than just pretty pictures, they
are part of her heart and legacy – and inspire her greatgrandchild Anya – who
loves color and drawing with a passion as well.
She’s proud to draw and paint ‘just like your nana mum.’
And finally, blessed are the grandparents who are brave and couragous –
who stand up for their grandchildren and hold them tight, who tell them
everything will be ok and life will pan out and that they are enough as they
are.
Words can’t say in public how much Nana meant in my life and to my life.
But from the bottom of my heart – thank
you Nana for being the most important part of the tribe of women who raised me
– it truly does take a village.
