It's now been nearly 3 years, as of june 10th since my mother died.
The feeling of a giant wave of grief consuming me has passed for the most part, still get the occasional storm ,but now it's as if I've learnt to surf on that wave and can for the most part control it. The stinging pain as my children pass certain milestones still is there, how could they not be? she was taken away from them far too soon. Although Arthur, my 6 year old son often talks about her, and often laughs and blames her for inclement weather. Also, if he's reprimanded he will often say " I'm going to tell nanny you're being mean to me!" which I have to say , often causes my heart to miss a beat and question whether the scolding was too harsh! She made such an impression on him even though he was only 3 when she went. That ultimate kindness of the most perfect type of grandmother.
There are so many stories about her growing up in Greystones outside Dublin, despite the fact she contracted polio when she was only 3 and spent a majority of her youth in hospitals, the story that stick sin my mind is her coming down a hill on a bicycle full pelt, despite the fact her caliper wasn't designed to bend enough to ride a bike but she did it anyway, that's her in a nutshell 'She did it anyway' when told she'd never walk, never have kids? 'she did it anyway' and more. That spirit ran through the core of her whole life, she appreciated every last drop of life. I wish more people and some of my family included could identify and learn from such a spirit.
