November

What a month. Life has felt like my own version of “Four Weddings and a Funeral”. Mine is called “Three Birthdays and a Funeral”. My Grandmother passed away the day before my sister’s birthday. Though a terribly sad time for us she was an impressive 96 years old and in her own words she was “ready”. Her funeral came between my daughter’s second birthday and my own birthday. Literally, birthday, funeral, birthday, in three days.

The two weeks from her death to my birthday gave me lots to think about. Firstly the obvious one about living life to the full. My Grandmother lived so much longer than anyone expected. She had been unwell in her 5o’s and suffered heart problems most of her life. While we all expected my Grandad to outlive her he actually died nearly 20 years ago. As a catholic she had been visited by a priest at her bedside four times and each time until now had woken up and wondered why all her children were gathered around. My parents have been called in the middle of the night to be at her side many times and she has described out of body experiences, white lights and all that. But she kept on going. She found a new companion to share her life with at 80! I guess we never know how long we have and most of the time we take that to mean our life may be cut short, but it can also mean we might just keep on going and going and in some ways that makes it even more vital to make the most of life. Imagine not getting on with it and finding you’d wasted 20 years you didn’t think you were going to have.

Secondly is family – extended family. As a child I spent a lot of time with my cousins, aunts and uncles. Now I only see them at weddings and funerals. My children didn’t come to the funeral but they did come to the bit afterwards and it was the first time they had met most of my extended family. With my Grandmother gone a whole generation has now disappeared. My cousins, my sister and I promised we would meet up once a year. I hope we do.

As my dad and his siblings clear my Grandmother’s flat it is a reminder too about stuff. She had loads of it. Crammed into cupboards and drawers that were all falling apart from the pressure of linens she collected and never used. Thimbles, religious trinkets, soft toys, ornaments. We are all going to choose something to keep. For me, a paperweight. But the rest goes to charity shops. None of it matters after you have gone. What we remember is her. Her elegance and gentleness, her thoughtfulness, her waving goodbye as if for the last time for the past 20 years.

So, on to making the most of time. I am hoping for an uneventful December. I have a series of prints waiting to be finished. My first ones. I’m a little nervous about showing my work to anyone for the first time in a very long time. However they turn out, even with the ink still wet, my Grandmother would have wasted no time in telling everyone and anyone that her Grandaughter is a printmaker.