Wednesday, the girls, my mum and I went out for lunch at the pub with my Gran, to celebrate her 85th birthday.
We all arrived at the Sportsmans. Mum went and fetched Gran from the pokies lounge.
She balked about how beautiful all her grandchildren were, and just quietly, she's absolutely right in doing so. I'm gorgeous. She was obviously talking about my girls and marvelled at them.
She talked about her age and how she was lucky to get to 85. Her legs are failing her, her health is sketchy. She counts herself lucky, as the women on her mothers side of the family generally died at an earlier age.
Whereas the blokes on her fathers side lived well into their 90s.
She chuckled as she reminded me, that all her brothers were dead. All that remained were Nora(her sister) and her. God love her. Imagine being alive after most of your siblings had passed away. It would be like pieces of your heart had gone missing. I can imagine it would hurt.
I hope to reach such an awesome age and be still getting around and active, even with a wheelie walker, after your legs could not carry you properly anymore. How useful are those things?! Walking support, somewhere to sit and storage under the seat for your handbag! Sound like something anyone could use on a good night out at the pub!!
As far as my mum is concerned, and rightfully so, poor old Wandy(no, that isn't a typo, that's our nickname for our granny Wanda), drives like someone who's been on a bender and should have her licence taken off her sooner than later! I don't know what the government was thinking when it cancelled the old age driving assessment! I don't think she would pass to be honest.
When we lived on the corner of Enderby Lane thirty years ago, when I was a teenager, Mum swore she saw her go up on two wheels coming around the corner. It's always been a running joke and one we laugh about often.
We love her all the same and I am so thankful, so thankful, that my daughters can know her, go out for lunch dates with her, mum and me. Four generations, enjoying each others company, laughing and loving.
She is the only close surviving grandparent I have. Boris, her husband died when I was 15.
My dad's parents I haven't seen since I was 8. They came over from Spain, I remember the trip to go get them from Tullamarine in Melbourne. They didn't speak a word of English, but the grandie cuddles were all I needed. I still remember the chunky woolly socks my Abuela knitted for me. She died a while ago, she had Dementia. My grandfather Daniel is still alive, but as distant to me as the seas that divide us.
Summer was a little shy, she doesn't see Wandy much, but she opened up. It makes me realise that maybe we don't drop in on Gran enough when she is at home. I have to change that, I have great memories of my Grans' house in Southend, where I spent a whole heap of time when I was a kid.
