The most beautiful Rose.

Her name was Rosey, and she was the sweetest person I’ve ever known. I don’t recall her ever being mad or even raising her voice. She only ever wanted us to be loved and happy.

We lived three hours away, so every few months we’d pile into our air-conditionless car and trek from the country to the City. Ma drove and my three siblings and myself fought over the front seat {big Sis always won}.

It seemed worlds away from where we lived, with busy roads, traffic lights, small yards with fences and gates. Each house in my Nanna’s street seemed to be filled with people from different cultures. It wasn’t like back home.

We pulled into her driveway, off the busy road and she was always waiting with her fluffy white dog in her arms. She oozed love and smiles, from her frail little body. He skin was always so soft and fragile, and her hair as white as the clouds above.

She always baked for us, but played it down as if it was no effort at all. There were pumpkin scones and peanut butter biscuits. She gave us cola and green cordial, treats that were taboo in our home but a welcomed and adored treat in hers.

Being at Nanna’s house was like stepping back in time. She had an old fashioned television and phone, dated but meticulous furniture, a big wireless radio in the dining room and an old hand-wound clock in the lounge room that boomed every hour, scaring us as it echoed through the house.

After each stay we’d pile back in the car for the drive back home. Nanna would stand behind her gates, in her beautiful garden, waving her hanky and shouting at a gentle “Hooroo” to us as we drove off.

We’d crane our necks and watch her for as long as she stayed in sight.

Slowly as the years passed, our Nanna deteriorated. Her smiles faded, along with her memory and she could no longer take care of herself.

She lived with us for a short while, with her fluffy white dog, but as a self-concerned teen I didn’t really appreciate her company as much as I should have. Eventually she deteriorated so much that she needed to be cared for in a nursing home.

By the time she is in full-time care, I’d matured into an adult and moved to the City. Every second Friday I headed out west to visit her. It wasn’t the same without the cola and the cookies, and the smiling happy Nanna I remembered from my childhood.

Each fortnight I sat with her for a few hours. We walked into the quaint courtyard and soaked up some sunshine. We didn’t talk about much, but just kept each other company.

After about six months of visiting Nanna Rose, I arrived one Friday and we sat again in the courtyard. The nursing home cat purred at our feet. Nanna looked at me with a vacant stare and asked, “Who are you?”

She continued, “You keep coming week after week, but I don’t know who you are. I asked the nurse and she doesn’t know who you are either.”

I giggled and tried to explain who I was without upsetting her. I was heartbroken, not so much that she didn’t know who I was but more that I was losing my Nanna.

I stopped turning up on our Friday dates. My heart ached and I couldn’t bear to go anymore, especially alone.

With months between our visits I noticed that Nanna was deteriorating with dementia. Some days were good and she’d remember us and the past.

Other days she’d sing songs from her childhood but couldn’t recall any of us.

Months later Nanna Rosey passed away. As we sat in her small funeral we all held one of Nanna’s hankies, and through tears we said our own “Hooroo” to her.

It’s now that I miss her most, as a mum and seeing my own mum as a wonderful nanna herself. My own mum said a few weekends back as she collected flowers with Lacey is in the backyard, “Nanna & Lacey would have been great friends. They would have chatted and pottered around.”

I wish that she was here to see us now, to meet Lacey, to see me as a mama. I’d love to see her smile, to watch her one more time, standing in her garden waving us goodbye.

post signature

{image}

5 thoughts on “The most beautiful Rose.”

  1. Oh Chantelle! This is THE most moving blog post I've read in a long time. It's such a shame the self-concerned teen rears her ugly head in all of us. We miss out on so much in those few years. I know I did. How beautiful are you! I'm sure Nanna Rose is watching on and hooroo-ing!
    x Stacey

  2. Gosh. I have so many words for this.. all beautiful, moving, touching words. But I can't find any of them! I'm a long time reader of yours, but I don't often post – this one I couldn't flick past. It has me in tears, sitting on the bus mind you. 😉

    So well written Telle.. Beautiful. I too remember these days with deep fondness & love. I'm lucky in that my Nan is still here, but she's definitely not what she used to be (no pun intended). I miss the Nan she used to be..

    This one hits close to home. Thank you for sharing.

  3. Chantelle – What a post! I love the way you talk so fondly of your Nanna, and the wonderful memories you have of visiting her during your childhoold. But this post was also so very hard to read without getting upset. My brother suffered horrific injuries just 3 weeks ago in a motorcycle accident. His injuries included massive head injuries where he required surgery to remove part of his brain. I am completely devestated and shattered, his memory has been affected severely. And it hurts so much to think those memories from our childhood all the way until the present may never return. Cassie x

  4. I really enjoyed reading about your Nanna, it brought a tear to my eye. I too often wish that my Grandparents were alive to get to know my daughter Lily who is nearly 3. They utterley spoiled my sister and I and would have loved to do the same with Lily I'm sure.

Comments are closed.