It must be all those years of the same cleaning products, or something, but little nanny’s house has always had a certain fragrance. if i was transported there, i would know immediately by smell. It was odd going there, as my mum and aunt had already started the packing away of nick nacks and treasures. little nanny collected brass, and although she gave away the horse brasses a few years back to a more or less stranger, there were the treasures on the mantelpiece that had always piqued the children’s interest. They were told they could choose some, and then played with their choices oh so carefully. i missed little nanny. she should have been in her chair, and it seemed almost a desecration that her house was being unpicked. she has lived there since just before aunty margaret was born and the house has had few changes since really my teens. apparently my nan had worried that no-one would want her treasures, except that helen, who will want to keep everything the same! she knew me well. i do want everything to keep the same. i took the girls round the house with far more freedom than when little nanny was alive. they hid in the cupboards, and i pointed out how we had slept all those christmasses ago, and bb wanted a sleepover with little nanny too. sob. she had always kept the last cards from grandad, so i took a picture of those, as something she had cherished. and then i found all of mine – bigger sob. not that i will keep them, i have her last card, of course. i put the card to her she will never read on her mantelpiece though, as if , somehow, she will hear the words, that i loved her so, and still do, that she was a wonderful nanny, none better, that i was so glad we had her for so long etc. i know, she knew i thought that anyway. the girls have back some of the hama things they made her, and i have back those little fimo owls that i have only just made her for her birthday. it just seems so, well awful, the division of the spoils. all i want is a hug, not the sewing machine!
anyway, the girls were lovely and well behaved, and made us laugh. i need to be better with SB tomorrow though, as being so sensitive, she really hasn’t had any of my attention, and yet she has given me loads of lovely hugs. bless her. bb has too, they are lovely girls. i have had my grieving time, and now must show them the life moves on with your loved one in your heart bit. you know, i was absolutely awful at goodbyes all my life. nanny used to make up games for when she and grandad left so that i wouldn’t cry so much.
so, we met, hugged, and put some more happy scenes into little nanny’s home, which has been so full of happiness over many years. if houses have karma, then that house should be a happy one. i will go again with wine to do the last of the house clearance type stuff with mum just before the funeral, and to say a last goodbye to a house filled with loads of happy memories. seems perhaps a bit silly, but it helps.
anyway, this has been a somewhat meandering post.
tbh, what you are talking about sounds like a perfectly healthy way to grieve and yet still be moving on a little. It hurts like nothing else, but you’re doing it and involving your girls in it too which is a a good way for them to understand how life, and death works.
Hugs.
xx
What they said.
Had a real resonance for me as, when we cleared Gran’s house, there were the little fimo models we had made her just before she got suddenly worse and then died.
So many hugs; you have such a tangible person to grieve – she must have been wonderful because you have made her, and her love, very tangible in the way you have written.
hugs. and yes, what Jax said.
can just imagine the ‘gulp’ moment when you found your cards/letters there. It is both wonderful and painful to discover things like that, underlines just how much she loved you too, even though you knew that before.
Sounds like it was a hard day but part of a positive process as well – keep crying (and blogging) for as long as it helps.
lots of love xxx
Oh darling Helen I’m sorry very sorry for your loss. It’s good to go through all these processes. I didn’t get to go to my Grandma’s house, she left it 10 years before she died. But when she did I was given a box of things of hers and in it where all the little cards and letters I’d sent her as a child. Made me cry for hours. I kept them and when I lift the lid of the box I can smell her and relive memories I may have since forgotten.
thanks all. Ah Ros, that’s lovely.