GRANDMA

My Grandma died last month. Today she would have been 90. I still have her birthday programmed into my iPhone diary and the family were planning a little together up in Newcastle. As it happened the get together was earlier than planned but with one vital person missing. 

One of the odd things about a person dying is that you suddenly find out so many things about them, as relatives come out of the woodwork and keepsakes get sorted through. I had never seen this picture of my Grandma before. My Mum thinks she must have been in her late teens because she's not wearing her engagement ring yet. I love everything about this photo, from her jaunty pose to the beautiful floral dress and the effort she's gone to in order to find a background full of greenery. I wish I could show her this photo and get her tell me about that day - what she was thinking, whether the dress was a favourite, who took the photo - but that will have to remain in the past. 

FRIDAY

I wore this outfit on Friday, the day my Grandma died*. I always associate my outfits with the things I have done or experienced in them, but the death of a loved one is new for me (at least as a 'grown up'). I think if I knew I would have worn something she liked to see me in. I thought I was going to work, but at the last minute I got a call from my Mum saying that if I wanted to try and say my last goodbyes they should be done right now. But as I live in London and my Grandma lived in Newcastle, that meant a train journey. Within the hour I was on the train up North, but I didn't make it in time. When I got off the train I was in Newcastle with no real purpose - I hadn't thought about what I would do if I didn't make it in time. I knew I didn't want to go and sit in my Grandma's room alone with her body for the next 3 hours whilst the rest of the my family arrived by car, so I stayed in the centre of town. 

I quickly realised that sitting alone in a cafe just meant too much introspection and tears and people were giving me wide berth, so I got up and mooched. I found that my coping mechanism is the same in grief as it is for anything else - shopping. An art gallery would have had me in tears, a film would be all wrong - like enjoying yourself whilst the world ended outside, drinking would make me a mess. So shopping it was. You can't cry and shop at the same time. Or at least I found I couldn't. 

I managed to keep it together until I got to Grandma's care home and the Deputy Manager gave me a hug and told me she died peacefully without pain, even managing to eat her favourite Cornetto the night before. It's good to know that my Grandma and I are alike - not even dying can keep us from the food we love. Later on my Mum and I were talking with the Deputy Manager about what we wanted my Grandma to be buried with. I flippantly said some Mills & Boon books as we always used to scour the charity shops for one she hadn't read (she liked the desert romances best). I actually think when it comes to the funeral they might be in the coffin with her. I hope she doesn't mind.

*It feels a bit odd writing about something so personal on a blog. At the moment I haven't really told anyone and I've only talked to family, so telling strangers about my weekend feels a little counter intuitive, but not mentioning my Grandma felt like doing her a disservice. 

Shirt - Equipment 

Vest - Topshop 

Trainers - Nike