My Darling Lorny,
Pop Len passed away and his funeral was this week. There were moments when I was certain I was not going to attend, how could I when I didn't have the opportunity to attend yours? And yet, how could I not? The service had only just commenced when we arrived and we slipped in quietly. I listened to things said about him, expecting him to walk out a side door flipping the bird at everyone. He didn't. There was a pretty tall guy seated in front of me and I wasn't particularly paying too much attention to my surroundings until one of the grandsons took the time to sing to Pop, I leaned to the side to look around tall guy and realised that up there in that box was Pop. That was his super long body closed inside that casket and then I couldn't breathe. And then I couldn't stop crying. And I wondered about you, in your box. Were you comfortable? Did they remember your green eyeshadow and your lippie? You never went anywhere without make up on, ever.
Even though I had my eyes open and I was awake and alert it was like my vision was suddenly filled with a dark shadow. Your daughter took something from me, her eldest daughter, that she will never EVER be able to give back. She robbed me of the chance to say goodbye. I don't even know the date you passed.
I made sure Pop knew I loved him. I made sure I thanked him because to him, there were no steps. I couldn't stay. I could not. I wanted to be back in the fresh air, away from the people smothering each other with hugs. I wanted to be back with my children, those beautiful innocent creatures who light up my life. I said my goodbyes and I left.
I thought back forever ago to when Pops wife (Nan too I guess, but I never called her that) went to England. He'd occasionally pop round to your house and sometimes you'd watch telly together. I used to wish that maybe you'd get married. For several reasons but mostly because I hoped that he would be able to stop the abuse dished out by his son, my stepfather (I know this thinking is wrong now but back then). I remembered the first time I met him, he was the tallest guy I'd ever seen. I'd been told all kinds of stories about him being an angry, not nice man but he seemed really glad to meet me. I'd work in his fruit shop, bagging potatoes and he'd give me $20 (an absolute fortune to a little girl, though his son and daughter in law would "borrow" it almost immediately). He'd let me pick one of each fruit I liked then he'd cut it all up and add a big blob of cream. I remember Nan Too was cooking him tripe once, he tried to trick me into eating it - I was too smart for that and he'd always tell me I was beautiful, even the last time I saw him. I was at the doctors, so incredibly sick with the flu. Sweaty and snotty and drippy eyes and coughing like a bullfrog. There he was in the waiting room, he took the time to talk to my babies then told me I was beautiful.
All these thoughts about him have been bringing back all these thoughts about you. The greatest love of my life. My first true love. My beautiful Nanna. I am who I am because of you. You were my salvation growing up, knowing I lived in an environment with a mother who cared only for herself and then later her husband. There was so much filth and corruption and anger in my life except when I was with you.
You showed me what it was like to experience culture. You took me to see the signing of the Magna Carta reenacted in the Queen Victoria Building, we visited Centre Point Tower, you taught me to gamble (21!) and you introduced me to your love of the silver screen. We'd pull the big armchairs up to the TV and eat dessert or sip soup from a mug and watch with excitement Audrey Hepburn, Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly and friends.
Every morning when you went to the dining room you'd wave to the big oval photo of your husband and say; "Mornin' darlin'" and every night you'd wish him sweet dreams. You'd drink your juice from a crystal wine glass, because why not? You had a beautiful framed photo of a younger you beside your chair so you could remember back when you were beautiful. I told you that was being silly, you were always beautiful regardless of age. You ironed your undies and do so many other things that were normal to you but would make me giggle. You never swore and yet when you were super angry or accidentally hurt yourself you'd say 'bloody' or 'shite'. When you were irritated with someone you'd give them the evil eye. It was a way you squinted your eyes that made the world stop and panic. You were stubborn and set in your ways. When I moved in with you we'd clash, I used too many squares of toilet paper when I did a wee (2 folded several times should suffice). Once we argued because I had left my pill on my dresser, you were concerned what people would think when they saw it. That night I took the time to write a note to any intruder to my room;
To Whom It May Concern, I am unsure what circumstances have occured which have led you into my bedroom but in case you are wondering I am not a hussy. I have a problem with my ovaries whereby my period is incredibly heavy and painful therefore I take the contraceptive pill as it somewhat eases my discomfort. Yours Sincerely Kristie Lee xx
When I returned from work the next night the note was gone and there was no mention of it again.
Another time I came home from work to discover a fifty dollar note on my dinner plate. I looked at you curiously.
"It's for new under pants."
"Huh? I just bought new underwear. Why?"
You looked embarrassed and quite bothered.
"Well, I washed them and I don't know what happened but they shrank."
"Huh?" I was so incredibly confused. How could you have shrunk all of my knickers? I asked where they were and you said on the washing machine you were going to chuck them in the rag bag. I went to inspect. They all looked perfectly fine. I was now even more confused.
"Look" you urged "Look at the back. I don't know how it happened." Turns out you did not know what a g-string was. I laughed so hard I cried, you were not impressed with my choice of undergarments but you happily took your money back.
When I had my first child he was premature. You'd come to the hospital just to sit with me for hours. When I brought him home you'd catch a bus to my house once a week just to help me. You'd hold him so I could have a long shower all by myself. You'd put fresh sheets on my bed or cook dinner. Once when my boy was struggling to poop and was squealing with tummy pains you bought a bottle of prune juice and gave him some in his bottle... worked wonders.
There are no words in existence that can sum up the immense pain I have because you are no longer here, I'm unable to articulate just how much I miss you. Even in my 30s I'd sit beside you on the lounge with my head on your shoulder, your arms around me. I love you so incredibly. You'd give me giant hugs with sound effects and all. I remember so clearly standing on your big front gates, making them clang and yelling "Nanny, Nanny, Naaaaaanny" to which you'd sing out "Yessy, Yessy, Yeeeeeesy".
So many things I want to say. Did you know I wasn't there to say goodbye? Did you understand why? Did you know that I would've moved heaven and earth to be with you during your last moments in this life? Did you know you meant everything to me? I think about you every single day. I smell a flower and know you'd be able to tell me it's name. Something funny happens and I know you'd get a good chuckle out of it.
You hated tattoos so much, your other granddaughter chose to honour your memory with one. I am covered in tattoos, I chose to honour your memory by giving my daughter your middle name for her own. She was born on my birthday, did you know that? When I had everything taken from me and no birthday to look forward to, she was born. Boy, is she like you. Fiesty and stubborn and hysterically funny. She even has your evil eye down and I wonder then if it's possible that you were reborn in her?
Pop Len passed away and his funeral was this week. There were moments when I was certain I was not going to attend, how could I when I didn't have the opportunity to attend yours? And yet, how could I not? The service had only just commenced when we arrived and we slipped in quietly. I listened to things said about him, expecting him to walk out a side door flipping the bird at everyone. He didn't. There was a pretty tall guy seated in front of me and I wasn't particularly paying too much attention to my surroundings until one of the grandsons took the time to sing to Pop, I leaned to the side to look around tall guy and realised that up there in that box was Pop. That was his super long body closed inside that casket and then I couldn't breathe. And then I couldn't stop crying. And I wondered about you, in your box. Were you comfortable? Did they remember your green eyeshadow and your lippie? You never went anywhere without make up on, ever.
Even though I had my eyes open and I was awake and alert it was like my vision was suddenly filled with a dark shadow. Your daughter took something from me, her eldest daughter, that she will never EVER be able to give back. She robbed me of the chance to say goodbye. I don't even know the date you passed.
I made sure Pop knew I loved him. I made sure I thanked him because to him, there were no steps. I couldn't stay. I could not. I wanted to be back in the fresh air, away from the people smothering each other with hugs. I wanted to be back with my children, those beautiful innocent creatures who light up my life. I said my goodbyes and I left.
I thought back forever ago to when Pops wife (Nan too I guess, but I never called her that) went to England. He'd occasionally pop round to your house and sometimes you'd watch telly together. I used to wish that maybe you'd get married. For several reasons but mostly because I hoped that he would be able to stop the abuse dished out by his son, my stepfather (I know this thinking is wrong now but back then). I remembered the first time I met him, he was the tallest guy I'd ever seen. I'd been told all kinds of stories about him being an angry, not nice man but he seemed really glad to meet me. I'd work in his fruit shop, bagging potatoes and he'd give me $20 (an absolute fortune to a little girl, though his son and daughter in law would "borrow" it almost immediately). He'd let me pick one of each fruit I liked then he'd cut it all up and add a big blob of cream. I remember Nan Too was cooking him tripe once, he tried to trick me into eating it - I was too smart for that and he'd always tell me I was beautiful, even the last time I saw him. I was at the doctors, so incredibly sick with the flu. Sweaty and snotty and drippy eyes and coughing like a bullfrog. There he was in the waiting room, he took the time to talk to my babies then told me I was beautiful.
All these thoughts about him have been bringing back all these thoughts about you. The greatest love of my life. My first true love. My beautiful Nanna. I am who I am because of you. You were my salvation growing up, knowing I lived in an environment with a mother who cared only for herself and then later her husband. There was so much filth and corruption and anger in my life except when I was with you.
You showed me what it was like to experience culture. You took me to see the signing of the Magna Carta reenacted in the Queen Victoria Building, we visited Centre Point Tower, you taught me to gamble (21!) and you introduced me to your love of the silver screen. We'd pull the big armchairs up to the TV and eat dessert or sip soup from a mug and watch with excitement Audrey Hepburn, Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly and friends.
Every morning when you went to the dining room you'd wave to the big oval photo of your husband and say; "Mornin' darlin'" and every night you'd wish him sweet dreams. You'd drink your juice from a crystal wine glass, because why not? You had a beautiful framed photo of a younger you beside your chair so you could remember back when you were beautiful. I told you that was being silly, you were always beautiful regardless of age. You ironed your undies and do so many other things that were normal to you but would make me giggle. You never swore and yet when you were super angry or accidentally hurt yourself you'd say 'bloody' or 'shite'. When you were irritated with someone you'd give them the evil eye. It was a way you squinted your eyes that made the world stop and panic. You were stubborn and set in your ways. When I moved in with you we'd clash, I used too many squares of toilet paper when I did a wee (2 folded several times should suffice). Once we argued because I had left my pill on my dresser, you were concerned what people would think when they saw it. That night I took the time to write a note to any intruder to my room;
To Whom It May Concern, I am unsure what circumstances have occured which have led you into my bedroom but in case you are wondering I am not a hussy. I have a problem with my ovaries whereby my period is incredibly heavy and painful therefore I take the contraceptive pill as it somewhat eases my discomfort. Yours Sincerely Kristie Lee xx
When I returned from work the next night the note was gone and there was no mention of it again.
Another time I came home from work to discover a fifty dollar note on my dinner plate. I looked at you curiously.
"It's for new under pants."
"Huh? I just bought new underwear. Why?"
You looked embarrassed and quite bothered.
"Well, I washed them and I don't know what happened but they shrank."
"Huh?" I was so incredibly confused. How could you have shrunk all of my knickers? I asked where they were and you said on the washing machine you were going to chuck them in the rag bag. I went to inspect. They all looked perfectly fine. I was now even more confused.
"Look" you urged "Look at the back. I don't know how it happened." Turns out you did not know what a g-string was. I laughed so hard I cried, you were not impressed with my choice of undergarments but you happily took your money back.
When I had my first child he was premature. You'd come to the hospital just to sit with me for hours. When I brought him home you'd catch a bus to my house once a week just to help me. You'd hold him so I could have a long shower all by myself. You'd put fresh sheets on my bed or cook dinner. Once when my boy was struggling to poop and was squealing with tummy pains you bought a bottle of prune juice and gave him some in his bottle... worked wonders.
There are no words in existence that can sum up the immense pain I have because you are no longer here, I'm unable to articulate just how much I miss you. Even in my 30s I'd sit beside you on the lounge with my head on your shoulder, your arms around me. I love you so incredibly. You'd give me giant hugs with sound effects and all. I remember so clearly standing on your big front gates, making them clang and yelling "Nanny, Nanny, Naaaaaanny" to which you'd sing out "Yessy, Yessy, Yeeeeeesy".
So many things I want to say. Did you know I wasn't there to say goodbye? Did you understand why? Did you know that I would've moved heaven and earth to be with you during your last moments in this life? Did you know you meant everything to me? I think about you every single day. I smell a flower and know you'd be able to tell me it's name. Something funny happens and I know you'd get a good chuckle out of it.
You hated tattoos so much, your other granddaughter chose to honour your memory with one. I am covered in tattoos, I chose to honour your memory by giving my daughter your middle name for her own. She was born on my birthday, did you know that? When I had everything taken from me and no birthday to look forward to, she was born. Boy, is she like you. Fiesty and stubborn and hysterically funny. She even has your evil eye down and I wonder then if it's possible that you were reborn in her?