Life Goes On

Four months ago today we lost our beloved Gran, our Queen Mum. Eva Forster Peckover passed away in her sleep at age 96.

I wrote her euglogy and can say in all honesty it was the most difficult piece I have ever written. To sum up 96 years for a 20 minute speech kept me up night after night.

Memories came flooding back. Time moved slowly as my mind tried to express itself through my grief and numbness. The reality of losing her, is only just hitting me. And, as is always the case, it is the little things I miss the most. I miss her cheeky smile, her loud pronouncements of evildoers in the neighbourhood (parking in front of her apartment is one example - they blocked her view of the neighbours comings and goings). I miss her declarations of what made a good cup of tea. I miss her slipping my Yorkie, Reese, roast beef as the pup sat patiently waiting under the dining room table. I miss leaning down to kiss her goodbye.

They say grief is a natural extension of loving someone. You don't grieve for someone you did not love. I loved my Gran very, very much and will miss her everyday for the rest of my life.

I have found the summer has numbly passed me by. Samuel is 15 now and spending a lot of time with his buddies. Caitlin is settling into her new life as a young single woman living on her own. Mum is adjusting to living without Gran.

We recently watched in horror at the ugly riots that seemed to envelop all of England. As everyone did, I wondered what drove these primarily young people to such mindless acts of violence. I read all the columns and absorbed thoughts such as "lost generation", "disenfranchised youth", "bad parenting." After absorbing these thoughts and forming a few of my own, i wondered what my Gran would have said. Well. Her thoughts would no doubt have been harsh, biting and bang on. She would have declared them "hooligans", "layabouts", and "in need of a good kick up the ass!" I also think she would have been totally perplexed at people burning their own neighbours homes and businesses down to the ground. Kids turning on their own neighbours would have been the ultimate shame of the sordid affair in Gran's mind. Her memories of England were of a nation that came together in difficult times, helped their neighbours as she certainly did time and time again.

The English are known for their stiff upper lip. Indeed, my mother represents that stereotype fully. She is loving and kind, but can be standoffish and doesn't cry easily.

During the riots, Caitlin noted that she had only seen her Nana cry three times. The first when my Dad died, the second when Andre Agassi retired from tennis and the third, when she watched her hometown of Croydon going up in flames, as though she were reliving the Blitz. Of course, she wasn't just crying for Croydon. She was crying for her Mum.

My two wonderful nephews Mitchell and Desmond are touring Europe at the moment and by all accounts indulging in German beer and late nights. They are safe, happy and having the time of their lives. As Gran would have said, they are "making memories."

Linda Grace