Flowers and Hope

This week began with a funeral as my family gathered to say our final farewells to my nanna who passed away at the end of February. By a lovely coincidence, there were daffodils spelling the word Hope, my nanna’s name, on the grounds of the Crematorium.

My nanna turned 93 last September and I feel incredibly lucky to have had her all through my childhood and well into adulthood, but I’ll miss her and life without her will be a huge adjustment for our family. It’s particularly sad timing as she passed away before meeting our baby, her great granddaughter.

My grandparents on their wedding day in 1947

I’m very grateful to have such a store of memories with my nanna. I’ll remember her reading The Owl and the Pussycat to me when I was very little and reciting King John’s Christmas during Christmas dinner a couple of years ago. I’ll remember the sandwich cakes she baked for birthdays and special occasions, which were perfect every time, never burned, peaked, cracked or soggy. I’ll remember her singing songs from old musicals while she washed dishes, and her twinkling eyes and throaty chuckle as she told personal anecdotes.

When we came to clear out her house, there were only a few keepsakes I wanted, but I dug up some flowers from her garden that I hope will survive being moved to our garden and will always remind me of nanna. Have a lovely week. X