What grandparents are supposed to be…
… and what our Grandma was not
Here’s what I read at my Grandma’s funeral in May. I wrote it the week before, with the help of memories from my brothers and cousin.
My aim was to put those memories into a structure that would convey the main thing that stood out about our Grandma: she was really so very unlike any other grandma we had ever met; so much more adventurous and inquisitive.
Grandparents are supposed to be boring — but when I found out that our Grandma spent half the war not allowed to speak to an Italian POW who was working at the nursery, for fear that something improper might happen, I knew that boring just wasn’t her.
Grandparents are supposed to be set in their ways — but in the last 14 years of her life, our Grandma amazed us repeatedly by learning how to do mosaics, watercolours, oil paintings and field surveys, and by organising and writing for a magnificent book.
Grandparents are supposed to be delicate — but ours played Pit so enthusiastically that once, in a fit of excitement, she broke the dining room table.
Grandparents are supposed to be dowdy — but our Grandma wore fabulous purples, made a skirt out of parachute silk, and surpassed even those glamorous elder ladies in Beryl Cook.
Grandparents are supposed to be a little dull-witted — but our Grandma went to university 25 years before most of our universities started accepting female students.
Grandparents are supposed to say “Ooh, that’s nice dear” — but our Grandma took a real interest in what we were doing, and encouraged us every step of the way.
Grandparents are supposed to be slow — but her driving was wild, and when she took me out for a spin in her sports car, the exhaust blew off.
Grandparents are supposed to be unadventurous — but our Grandma walked to the whalebone on Brancaster beach every single time.
What grandparents aren’t supposed to be is — gone.
But now she’s gone — and she’ll miss my wedding, in six weeks’ time; and Joe’s, and Sam’s, and Addy’s, in years to come.
What grandparents are, when they’re gone, is what they leave behind.
While I was at university, I came to stay with her for two weeks to take care of her after a hip operation. (Hers, not mine). It was fun to get to know her better — and it was the first time I had ever taken off a woman’s tights.
My brothers, my cousin and I are getting to know her better still today. So thank you all for coming — and thank you for helping us to get closer to the Grandma we loved so much.
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