In the early hours of yesterday morning, my family gathered to be with my adored (and adoring Grandma) as she passed into her next journey.
This lady was astonishingly marvellous. Special, and special to me.
When I was little, she was so glamorous, always sporting a perfectly made up mouth, neat beehive, slim hips and bright clothing, she smiled and sang, danced and flirted and lit up a room just be being in it. She was very social and loved being around people, especially family.
I remember staying at her house and being spoiled rotten with the good china, porridge and bacon and eggs, the theatre of the table, a small vase with a perfect bloom of some kind of other and her ever present smile and sing song chatter.
She was like this with everyone, and as our family grew by friendship, marriage, and birth, she taught us perfect acceptance and unconditional love. If you rang her doorbell you would hear her padding down the hall singing out to greet you and let you know she was coming.
She married twice, lost both husbands, and showed us how to grieve, and get on with things.
She was vibrant, and witty. She shimmered. She made you feel special just by being near her.
Her travels, and ensuing stories of adventures small and big were a delight and delightful. She could make a trip to the shops or the doctor sound like an odyssey full of marvels or tribulations. She could (hilariously) recall a meal in perfect detail down to the last pea.
She lived in the fullest sense of the word.
She will be very, very missed by a lot of people.
Her last day was a good one, social and merry. A headache came on. A minor, then a massive stroke on the way to hospital which saw her in a coma. She was put on a respirator, while family gathered to say their goodbyes, and as we all spent our last hours with her, holding her hands, kissing her forehead, having a giggle about silly things, entertaining her and ourselves and being family, her wishes were respected and the respirator was removed.
She passed on to her next journey loved and loving, and I, her eldest granddaughter was at her feet. Her heart stopped, and then, she shimmered, an electric sort of energy lifting up and out. A dissipation of sorts, entering the world in a different form, making us all better for the experience of being there, and knowing her fully.
Mary, Margaret Steel, your conversation will be missed, I know you are with us still. I hope you will be entertained by our antics. I’ll be doing my best. 🙂