Thump!
My eyes flew open and Hubby jumped beside me. The bedroom was dark and we both froze, waiting for another noise or an intruder to crash into our peaceful world. It was 5.35am and there should have been no-one else in the house.
Normally I would be frightened and Hubby would diligently search the house from top to bottom to reassure me. Things that go bump in the night have always made me nervous. This night however, a soothing calm washed over me and after some minutes had passed in silence, we both rolled over an instantly fell asleep.
The phone woke us an hour later. I climbed out of bed and noticed my handbag strewn across the bedroom floor. It had been sitting on the chest at the end of our bed the night before and as I answered the phone I vaguely remembered the "Thump" in the night.
My mother was on the other end of the line, and she was sobbing. Nana had died an hour before, at 5.35am.
Nana was buried on the 17th of December 2003, it was a scorching hot day. Before the graveside ceremony we visited the funeral home to say our last goodbyes. Being the first person close to me to die, this was my first experience with a viewing. No-one had thought to tell me not to touch her and in my grief I didn't think. I bent down and kissed her forehead, the icy coolness of her skin scarred me. Twelve months later when my Poppy died, I didn't go to the viewing.
Later at the lawn cemetery, I walked across the dry dusty car park blinded by my tears and stumbled, dropping my bag. Then a warm breeze lifted my damp hair off my shoulders and whispered in my ear. A soothing calm washed over me and I had the sudden thought that Nana was not gone at all. It was then that I remembered the "Thump" in the night. I turned to hubby, 'Do you think it was Nana who knocked my bag on the floor?'
Hubby lowered his head to mine, 'That's exactly what I've been thinking!'
Under the white marquee erected graveside, we found a seat amongst my many aunts and uncles and cousins and that was the moment when I decided to start trying for a baby.
Nana had twelve children and I grew up with over 30 immediate cousins. We lived in a small town and spent all of our spare time out on 'The Hill', my Nana and Poppy's sprawling fruit farm. Our life was a constant family get together, celebrating one special occasion after the other--I never had a moment to myself. After I left home I enjoyed the peace and quiet of my own company and had always thought I wouldn't have children.
Little did I know, all that was about to change. As I looked out over the sea of familiar faces-- each and everyone connected to my wonderful grandmother, not only by blood but with love-- for the first time in my life, I fully appreciated the wonderful upbringing I had been afforded.
Nana did not prescribe to any great philosophy or parenting technique, she simply loved each and every one of us like we were her favourite. She taught us how to cook, sew, knit, prune fruit trees, pick strawberries, plant flowers and play games. She was a great cook and remembered which sweet treat was our personal favourite and always made sure she had it fresh from the oven whenever we visited.
My favourite was always her apple crumble slice and sumptuously moist banana cake. Even after I left home and moved to the city for university, whenever I returned Nana would have both waiting for me.
A few weeks after the funeral my mother was visiting me and told me she had something for me. She handed me a tattered old notebook with half it's pages falling out and scrap bits of paper stuffed inside until it was fit for bursting. Nana's cookbook.
At the time I was touched and thought to myself that one day I would put the recipes in order, try them all out for myself and maybe write a cookbook about my wonderful Nana.
I fell pregnant with my son 18 months after Nana died and 18 months after that I gave birth to my daughter. To say the least, life got busy and five years have flown by. Hubby and I aim to raise our children simply and lovingly, embracing values that have withstood the test of time. Since the children were born I have tried and tried to imitate Nana's recipes and time and time again I have failed. I'm sure she's up there have a right old chuckle at my ineptitude.
But this story is not about me.I have been so fortunate to have strong capable women set fine examples of motherhood in my life and over the coming months I would love to share Nana's story via this blog, later to be compiled into a cookbook and life story for my extended family.
I do hope you have someone in your life that inspires you the way my Nana inspired me. Please click on the link so you too can enjoy Nana's Apple Crumble recipe.
That's really beautiful Tanya.
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