Maine Mummy: Nan

He will wipe every tear from their eyes

There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain,
for the old order of things has passed away. Rev 21:4

This weekend as I was boxing up some clothes for Goodwill I came across a sweater from my Nan Edwards. My little Nan would often give me sweaters when she no longer needed them, it's how I got most of my casual office attire. She always had the nicest sweaters and cardigans and I loved coming home with a suitcase full of new colours. Nan died this month after being in hospital since Christmas. I got to see her almost every day when we went home in March and Toby got to give his Great Grandma a high five. She finally got well enough to go home and died the next day - right where she wanted to be. It may have been my imagination but as I held the sweater I could almost smell her house again, her perfume, her detergent, her soap. I must have washed the sweater a dozen times since she gave it to me last year but memory is a powerful tool and I stood holding that khaki sweater for the longest time, flashes of Nan running through my head.

My Grandad died 35 years ago. 35 years. I can't imagine being without Ben for that long. I envision us both growing old together, swinging on the porch and watching Grandkids and Great Grandkids run around like nutcases. If I lost him at 52, well I just don't know.

Yet Nan lived a full life after that. With four daughters having children and grand children like they were going out of fashion she was always surrounded by people, by children, by love. I'm the youngest of the Grands and Toby is the youngest of the Great Grands so I had a different Nan than my brother or sister, each at least 10 years my Senior. I'm one of few of us that didn't get to meet Grandad but he lives in my mind through stories. Lifting a car engine with his bare hands, working on Tanks during the war. That is how Nan will have to live for Toby. My stories.

I'll tell him of Saturday nights drinking Shandy and watching Prime Suspect with Nan and her best friend Mabel Cummins. I'll tell him of ready salted crisp sandwiches and cups of tea. When he's old enough I'll tell him that when my mum's first marriage dissolved, that his spunky little Nan punched mum's first husband clear in the face. I'll tell him that she played imaginary card games with me. I'll tell him that she tricked his Auntie Sarah into taking her medicine by putting the tablets into a bag of chips (steak fries).

I have a locket that I wear almost every day. It's from my Nan. In that locket is a picture of Ben and a picture of me. Every time Toby sees it he wants to open it. He says "Daddy" and "Mummy" in the sweetest little voice reserved only for those moments. We open the locket and he smiles. Strangely enough this can occupy him for 5 or 6 minutes. My Nan had a locket like mine and wore it every day for as long as I can remember, in it a picture of Grandad and a picture of herself. Seeing and playing with that locket is one of my clearest and oldest memories. I love that she gave me one that I could do the same with, that would hold my husband and I, that my son would love to open and look at. I don't think she knew quite what that meant to me.

My Nan showed me how to explore the world on your doorstep using public transportation always with a cafe at the end. She showed me how to be an independent woman even after she became dependent on others to take care of her. She showed me how to have a stiff upper lip and passed her stubborn streak down to me through my mum (ahem) along with her strength.

She gave me a safe place to go whenever I needed one and always had a pack of crisps and cup of tea for me - the solution to most if not all pre-teen problems. She told me about the war when I was learning about it in school. She loved Ben when I brought him home and she adored Toby.