For My Nan, My Father’s Mother


Today would have been my beloved Nan’s 100th birthday.

I miss her. I’m thinking of my Dad and his brother and sisters and how they are missing their mother. This day, especially.

My siblings and I spent much of our childhood with her – before and after school, at the weekend, during holidays. She was caring, loving and warm but tough. Little but fierce. The original spitfire. I still remember her hands. Her voice. Her laugh. Her smell.

I wrote a little about her in Liberating Motherhood. Every time I return to that section, I cry.

So, really, although I write about mothers – ourselves, our own – I just want to honour my grandmother, the matriarch, with a short note. With a thanks and a moment. She was my father’s mother. She was loved.

As I say to my children, those we love will always be with us if they are in our hearts.

Love you Nan.


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