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Granny
GRANNY by Richard Harries Copyright
Granny, for she was my Granny
Not a Gran or a Nan
Lived in London, far away
But we saw her, not every day
She visited us in northern Harrogate
And we stayed for Easter with her
She was a traditional Gran
Tall and thin
Wore floral blouses
Had long hair in plaits, rolled up in a bun
At night the plaits came down
And she looked like a witch, a mischievous one
So different from my daytime Gran
She was a Victorian lady
Born Rose Ameta in 1887 in Wales
Married a Labour man with strong views
Which is how she ended up in London
With a Trade Unionist
He met famous people, dated actresses
Before she married him
She never liked actresses after that
She brought her boys up to do nothing in the house
And her daughter to do all, as they did then
But I loved her and she loved me too
When I was 12 I was allowed sherry
Cousin Rosemary at ten was allowed to wash up
And we all loved her so very much
She outlived her husband, her siblings, her friends
She had an air of impishness, sparkling eyes
So much fun, so involved with us
Her beloved grandchildren
Like a modern Granny
Not in this way like a Victorian one
She seemed a constant in our lives
As though she would always be there
Those floral blouses she liked so we bought them every year
These she saved brand new ‘ for a rainy day'
She had always been delicate and looked after herself
At 92 she went back to Pembrokeshire for a last time
And bought a picture of boats on a beach
That reminded her of her childhood so long ago
She never bought things for herself
So this must have been special to her indeed
Then people around her started acting strange
And she realised something was wrong
She worked it out being now frail but not daft
She had four children
Lived with one son
Her daughter in the next street
Made all her meals
She saw so much of them
Yet one she rarely saw had died
This was hidden from her for a while
But she worked it out
She knew something was wrong
So awful
She suffered that nightmare
Of being alive when one of her children was gone
She was used to bereavement but this was unbearable
She was heard to say ‘one of my chicks has gone'
And then took to her bed
Gave up on life
And in 48 hours was dead
She had been such a fixture in our lives
We were truly bereft
Went to the funeral
Invited to take something from the house
That picture of boats is now in my lounge
She loved it so dearly
I see it every day
I think of her every time I look upon it
And feel blessed she was in my life
She died nearly 40 years ago
I am shocked and surprised I still miss her so
Granny, for she was my Granny
Not a Gran or a Nan
Lived in London, far away
But we saw her, not every day
She visited us in northern Harrogate
And we stayed for Easter with her
She was a traditional Gran
Tall and thin
Wore floral blouses
Had long hair in plaits, rolled up in a bun
At night the plaits came down
And she looked like a witch, a mischievous one
So different from my daytime Gran
She was a Victorian lady
Born Rose Ameta in 1887 in Wales
Married a Labour man with strong views
Which is how she ended up in London
With a Trade Unionist
He met famous people, dated actresses
Before she married him
She never liked actresses after that
She brought her boys up to do nothing in the house
And her daughter to do all, as they did then
But I loved her and she loved me too
When I was 12 I was allowed sherry
Cousin Rosemary at ten was allowed to wash up
And we all loved her so very much
She outlived her husband, her siblings, her friends
She had an air of impishness, sparkling eyes
So much fun, so involved with us
Her beloved grandchildren
Like a modern Granny
Not in this way like a Victorian one
She seemed a constant in our lives
As though she would always be there
Those floral blouses she liked so we bought them every year
These she saved brand new ‘ for a rainy day'
She had always been delicate and looked after herself
At 92 she went back to Pembrokeshire for a last time
And bought a picture of boats on a beach
That reminded her of her childhood so long ago
She never bought things for herself
So this must have been special to her indeed
Then people around her started acting strange
And she realised something was wrong
She worked it out being now frail but not daft
She had four children
Lived with one son
Her daughter in the next street
Made all her meals
She saw so much of them
Yet one she rarely saw had died
This was hidden from her for a while
But she worked it out
She knew something was wrong
So awful
She suffered that nightmare
Of being alive when one of her children was gone
She was used to bereavement but this was unbearable
She was heard to say ‘one of my chicks has gone'
And then took to her bed
Gave up on life
And in 48 hours was dead
She had been such a fixture in our lives
We were truly bereft
Went to the funeral
Invited to take something from the house
That picture of boats is now in my lounge
She loved it so dearly
I see it every day
I think of her every time I look upon it
And feel blessed she was in my life
She died nearly 40 years ago
I am shocked and surprised I still miss her so
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