More Brass...

Since the previous post on "Surprise Culture" I have discovered three more of these charming little figures... two of them are on the Föri! 

 

 

Remembering

This week everyone is remembering. 

10 years ago yesterday, USA was attacked and thousands of people died in New York & Washington. I remember sitting in the office - seeing a crowd forming across the road in the barber's shop - all watching their tiny TV in the corner. I remember a call from Finland - had we seen the news? 

I remember a call from Ireland - my Mother staying with a friend - the airspace over London was closed, would she be able to get home? Should she rush home?  Her mother, my grandmother, "Nanny", was in a hospice. She was there for respite care while my grandfather took a few days rest by the sea. She had had a fall and I should ring to find out if it was time for my own Mother to come home. 

Yes, I explained the situation to the nurse and in her gentle voice she told me quite firmly to get Mum home as soon as we could. So we did. We called in favours from Travel Agents and found a flight from Cork to Birmingham. In Ireland, friends of friends of friends rallied round to get Mum from the wilds of Kerry to Cork in time to catch the flight.
My sister drove up from Aylesbury, collected me from Leicester and we went to meet the flight arriving at Birmingham International Airport. I remember the big echoing hall at the airport - and somewhere someone was whistling... Danny Boy... a tune that reduced us both to tears, sitting in an almost empty cafe. The tune that Nanny loved and that we had heard on cassette - sung by the whole family at a party when even her father was alive; before I was born. 

The first person through the arrivals gate when the delayed flight landed was a priest - we suddenly felt safer!  

The drive from Birmingham to Sutton should not be as fast as it was! But no-one was complaining. We arrived at the Hospice in the wee small hours and my Mum went in to sit with her Mum. 

I don't remember the drive to my parent's house that night but I do remember the phone call as we were about to leave the next morning to go back to the hospice.

She was gone. 


In her last moments, her husband and three children were the only people in the room. She had opened her eyes, looked into those of my Grandad, closed them again and was gone. 

I remember the drive - desperately trying not to cry - to keep my sister driving safely. I remember her fear at the prospect of seeing a dead body - it's not a dead body - it's Nan! I remember taking a lock of her hair. I remember the locket a dear friend gave me later to keep it in. 

On that day, 13th September 2001, there was a memorial service in London for the victims of the US attacks. On the following morning the newpapers were full of photographs of HM Queen Elizabeth II crying. I showed my grandfather - see, even the Queen is grieving for the loss of such a great lady!
I remember so many more details about those days. I remember the grief of the man who lost his wife of nearly sixty years. I remember being surprised at my own reaction.

I remember my Nan - the lady who taught me how to drink tea... and those who know me know how much I like my tea... I always picture her in her chair by the fire, with her knitting bag on the floor by her side, drinking tea from a bone china tea cup with matching saucer - pink roses. 


And so tomorrow I will remember Frances Eileen Mary Haley (nee Conroy) 21 July 1923 - 13th September 2001. 

Nanny.

The sad postscript is that my grandfather just might not remember all this. Last week he moved out of his own home and into a room at the Seafarer's Home in Surrey; sheltered accommodation for ex-seamen & women with specialist care for dementia sufferers. He has Alzheimers and has forgotten so many things. 

I pray he will never forget the love of his life.