Nanny
My beautiful grandmother (whom I called Nanny) passed away on Thursday, having suffered from dementia for most of my life. Instead of remembering her the way she was for the last 8 years, I'd like to preserve the earlier memories. She was 91, and is now at peace, but I miss her more than I can say. It began with a sound too hard to pronounce, I wasn't able to say Nanna, so turned to Nanny instead and it stuck. When I think of Nanny I think of her pearls, her dresses, the smell of her wardrobe, her bags with the clasps I found fascinating. The ring she gave me years ago, that she placed upside down on my finger. Her yellow- lidded container perched high on the fridge, filled with my favourite pink biscuits covered in hundreds and thousands. Her struggle with seat belts every time she sat in the car, my special job was to help her put it on. Her magazine stacks, doing find a words while she sat with a crossword. Her lotto tickets, always holding out hope that she'd strike