Feel Good Friday: My Gran Betty.
My Gran Betty died in the christmas of 2010, we buried her in the new year.
So what now has prompted me to write a blog post about her? Last night I had a dream:
The dream opened with a scenario, me and my current co workers were working at a hospital instead of the shop we work at. We had an hour for lunch and I offered to take something back for one of them. I did so and then ventured for food where I met the co-worker and my aunty and uncle. For some reason unbeknownst to me my aunty was in a wheelchair, an electric one, she also looked like she'd had a stroke. Nonetheless I ended up 20 minutes late back from my lunch I ventured into the toilet and when I came out, My Aunty told me my Gran was in the same hospital, so I sacked off work, I didn't care if I was late and went to see her, My Gran was fine happy as Larry young and wandering around, except she seemed odd, almost childlike. She handed me a single bubblegum wrapper and then returned back to her room. I woke up soon after this.
First off, I can tell you what most of the dream represents but we'll get to that later.
My Gran died of alzhiemers, I remember my 19th birthday when I went on up to that familiar house in its quaint little setting, the same place it had always been to get my birthday card. I remember the crushing moment her laughing off not understanding why she was giving me a card, I remember her shaking hands as she tried to drink a cup of tea and her hand faltering spilling it on herself, I remember the vivid way she began a sentence and finished it with the half of another. I remember when I got back I didn't stop to ask my mum if she wanted the usual cuppa, I didn't stop to see if my boyfriend had got in ok. Instead I tore upstairs and I sat for five minutes cradling the card as though it was a last memento and crying. I didn't cry for long I put my best brave face on and returned downstairs.
It takes a lot to make me cry; I only cry when I'm really angry, I cry at animals; happy, sad it doesn't matter; humans I don't cry at, I've almost felt oddly estranged from the human race. Always having to explain themselves, animals have a certain simplistic element that makes their emotions a little deeper, or rather thats my perception of it, in reality most animals probably don't care and only do because we anthopomorphise them.
Characters are another thing I get to attatched to, they can have me in tears but not real life, not living breathing humans. Apart from my Gran Betty.
My Gran Betty was always a massive part of my life, even as I got older I was still determined to see her as much as possible and my big bear of a Grandad. My Gran was a short woman and My Grandad is a big cuddly bear. Like Little and Large, My Gran was equally cuddly though, she gave the best hugs ever.
It's the little things I really remember about her, her singing certain songs, the way I used to say her name, the way everything we did seemed so precious to her, that nothing was to much trouble, going to morrisons for sausage and chips on shopping day, being taken to hyde during the school holidays. I loved her so much and my Grandad. I remember them giving us 'spends' on a sunday when we went up one or two shiny pounds depending on how old you were, I never used to like taking it. I didn't want them to think I needed paying off to go up there.
And then something odd happened; My Mum and Dad split up, after all my life of them being together they went their seperate ways, my dad had an affair, and My Gran Betty was his mum. After this we used to go just as often for a long time and then it stopped. We used to visit as a family and now it was just me my mum and two siblings. My mum always said that my gran was like her second mum and my gran loved her just as much. Something changed though, I got older to, I had all the time in the world yet no time at all, my mum found a lump and started having tests done, and it declined from there. My mum used to tell me to go up and see them. I always found this concept odd though, My mum knew so much about their lives and I didn't know what we would talk about thats what scared me most. Then my 19th happened.
I don't remember if I saw my Gran after that, My mum found out she had PMP a rare sort of cancer and in 2009 she had some surgery and march 2010 she had to have more that nearly killed her.
By this time my Gran was in a home, a shadow of her former self, I never could bring myself to see her in that place, they say there is no horror worse then your own imagination, I think for me it wasn't about the horror of it, it was the fact my mask would falter and crumble and I wouldn't be able to hold back the flood of tears. I didn't have the courage to go. I'm the strong one. It might be a rather 'upyourownarse view' but that's the way I see it. I'm brave in a million different ways but not this I couldn't take seeing her in that place like that. It wasn't that I didn't love her enough, simply that I wasn't brave enough.
When she died and my dad told us, I knew, I knew before he came through the door, I knew the moment he phoned, it was almost a relief, I imagined her to have been like a wizard given the dementors kiss, a body still living but the soul has moved on. So it was a relief in many ways.
At the funeral I tried my best to support everyone around me; My cousin, my aunty, my mum even my brother cried, but i stayed cold, isolated, there is nothing like a room full of people, crying at a tradegy to make you feel more isolated because your not crying with them, nothing to make you feel more odd, like your wrong. I couldn't though.
When my rabbit Biscuits died, I cried for hours; I ran into the woods as far as I could, I waded through the rivers and mud talking to myself. When my Gran died I cried once quietly for five minutes and even that felt forced.
Then when something comes on the tv with sufers of alziemers or dementia, that can make me well up, it feels forced and odd but it does. I think about what my grandad had to go through.
I don't want to remember my Gran as the body though, I want to remember her as 'Gran Batty'. This is not some cruel jibe but I actually spelt her name wrong once on a card, like the above way, my mum pointed it out but my gran still loved it. I want to remember her and I know shes there as 'the woman who's inside the camera'. I'll explain. When I was little we had a video camera that was my gran and grandads, in fact we still have it, I won't let my mum throw it. We have countless hours of me saying 'hello Gran Betty, Hello Grandad Keith' into the camera because my mum and dad told us that the green glare on the lense was them. I guess I must have believed them. This was probably due to the fact I remember My gran in her green jumpers and shirts. I remember the smells on a sunday of her cooking in her house. I remember her buying us sausage rolls and ice fingers from greggs.
Going back to the dream though; I know exactly where the dream has come from the last bit anyway, those who are avid potter fans will already have worked it out. In the film and book OOTP Mr Weasley is in a wheelchair, (My aunty in the dream), he is given constant care my mrs weasley, (my uncle in the dream). I love the bones of Potter, I know it inside out upside down, I can't begin to describe to you how the book makes me feel but it does make me feel amazing. Most people have best friends, I had this. Anyway, those of you who've read it will recall Neville is also at the hospital visiting his mum and dad who were tortured by Bellatrix and have little memory and damaged mental state, Nevilles mum always give him a present though, a bubblegum wrapper. I think you can see where I'm going with this. Nevilles mum while not knowing the turmoil around her is happy, like My gran in my dream.
I know its not to everyones taste this blog post, but my Gran Betty was an amazing person, who I only knew a fraction about. I love that her and my grandad were together for so long and that they instilled such good values in me. I wish my Gran was still here and in good health, but she's at least in a better place now wherever that is and at least she is no longer suffering.
Ugly Duckling Out xxx
My Gran Betty died in the christmas of 2010, we buried her in the new year.
So what now has prompted me to write a blog post about her? Last night I had a dream:
The dream opened with a scenario, me and my current co workers were working at a hospital instead of the shop we work at. We had an hour for lunch and I offered to take something back for one of them. I did so and then ventured for food where I met the co-worker and my aunty and uncle. For some reason unbeknownst to me my aunty was in a wheelchair, an electric one, she also looked like she'd had a stroke. Nonetheless I ended up 20 minutes late back from my lunch I ventured into the toilet and when I came out, My Aunty told me my Gran was in the same hospital, so I sacked off work, I didn't care if I was late and went to see her, My Gran was fine happy as Larry young and wandering around, except she seemed odd, almost childlike. She handed me a single bubblegum wrapper and then returned back to her room. I woke up soon after this.
First off, I can tell you what most of the dream represents but we'll get to that later.
My Gran died of alzhiemers, I remember my 19th birthday when I went on up to that familiar house in its quaint little setting, the same place it had always been to get my birthday card. I remember the crushing moment her laughing off not understanding why she was giving me a card, I remember her shaking hands as she tried to drink a cup of tea and her hand faltering spilling it on herself, I remember the vivid way she began a sentence and finished it with the half of another. I remember when I got back I didn't stop to ask my mum if she wanted the usual cuppa, I didn't stop to see if my boyfriend had got in ok. Instead I tore upstairs and I sat for five minutes cradling the card as though it was a last memento and crying. I didn't cry for long I put my best brave face on and returned downstairs.
It takes a lot to make me cry; I only cry when I'm really angry, I cry at animals; happy, sad it doesn't matter; humans I don't cry at, I've almost felt oddly estranged from the human race. Always having to explain themselves, animals have a certain simplistic element that makes their emotions a little deeper, or rather thats my perception of it, in reality most animals probably don't care and only do because we anthopomorphise them.
Characters are another thing I get to attatched to, they can have me in tears but not real life, not living breathing humans. Apart from my Gran Betty.
My Gran Betty was always a massive part of my life, even as I got older I was still determined to see her as much as possible and my big bear of a Grandad. My Gran was a short woman and My Grandad is a big cuddly bear. Like Little and Large, My Gran was equally cuddly though, she gave the best hugs ever.
It's the little things I really remember about her, her singing certain songs, the way I used to say her name, the way everything we did seemed so precious to her, that nothing was to much trouble, going to morrisons for sausage and chips on shopping day, being taken to hyde during the school holidays. I loved her so much and my Grandad. I remember them giving us 'spends' on a sunday when we went up one or two shiny pounds depending on how old you were, I never used to like taking it. I didn't want them to think I needed paying off to go up there.
And then something odd happened; My Mum and Dad split up, after all my life of them being together they went their seperate ways, my dad had an affair, and My Gran Betty was his mum. After this we used to go just as often for a long time and then it stopped. We used to visit as a family and now it was just me my mum and two siblings. My mum always said that my gran was like her second mum and my gran loved her just as much. Something changed though, I got older to, I had all the time in the world yet no time at all, my mum found a lump and started having tests done, and it declined from there. My mum used to tell me to go up and see them. I always found this concept odd though, My mum knew so much about their lives and I didn't know what we would talk about thats what scared me most. Then my 19th happened.
I don't remember if I saw my Gran after that, My mum found out she had PMP a rare sort of cancer and in 2009 she had some surgery and march 2010 she had to have more that nearly killed her.
By this time my Gran was in a home, a shadow of her former self, I never could bring myself to see her in that place, they say there is no horror worse then your own imagination, I think for me it wasn't about the horror of it, it was the fact my mask would falter and crumble and I wouldn't be able to hold back the flood of tears. I didn't have the courage to go. I'm the strong one. It might be a rather 'upyourownarse view' but that's the way I see it. I'm brave in a million different ways but not this I couldn't take seeing her in that place like that. It wasn't that I didn't love her enough, simply that I wasn't brave enough.
When she died and my dad told us, I knew, I knew before he came through the door, I knew the moment he phoned, it was almost a relief, I imagined her to have been like a wizard given the dementors kiss, a body still living but the soul has moved on. So it was a relief in many ways.
At the funeral I tried my best to support everyone around me; My cousin, my aunty, my mum even my brother cried, but i stayed cold, isolated, there is nothing like a room full of people, crying at a tradegy to make you feel more isolated because your not crying with them, nothing to make you feel more odd, like your wrong. I couldn't though.
When my rabbit Biscuits died, I cried for hours; I ran into the woods as far as I could, I waded through the rivers and mud talking to myself. When my Gran died I cried once quietly for five minutes and even that felt forced.
Then when something comes on the tv with sufers of alziemers or dementia, that can make me well up, it feels forced and odd but it does. I think about what my grandad had to go through.
I don't want to remember my Gran as the body though, I want to remember her as 'Gran Batty'. This is not some cruel jibe but I actually spelt her name wrong once on a card, like the above way, my mum pointed it out but my gran still loved it. I want to remember her and I know shes there as 'the woman who's inside the camera'. I'll explain. When I was little we had a video camera that was my gran and grandads, in fact we still have it, I won't let my mum throw it. We have countless hours of me saying 'hello Gran Betty, Hello Grandad Keith' into the camera because my mum and dad told us that the green glare on the lense was them. I guess I must have believed them. This was probably due to the fact I remember My gran in her green jumpers and shirts. I remember the smells on a sunday of her cooking in her house. I remember her buying us sausage rolls and ice fingers from greggs.
Going back to the dream though; I know exactly where the dream has come from the last bit anyway, those who are avid potter fans will already have worked it out. In the film and book OOTP Mr Weasley is in a wheelchair, (My aunty in the dream), he is given constant care my mrs weasley, (my uncle in the dream). I love the bones of Potter, I know it inside out upside down, I can't begin to describe to you how the book makes me feel but it does make me feel amazing. Most people have best friends, I had this. Anyway, those of you who've read it will recall Neville is also at the hospital visiting his mum and dad who were tortured by Bellatrix and have little memory and damaged mental state, Nevilles mum always give him a present though, a bubblegum wrapper. I think you can see where I'm going with this. Nevilles mum while not knowing the turmoil around her is happy, like My gran in my dream.
I know its not to everyones taste this blog post, but my Gran Betty was an amazing person, who I only knew a fraction about. I love that her and my grandad were together for so long and that they instilled such good values in me. I wish my Gran was still here and in good health, but she's at least in a better place now wherever that is and at least she is no longer suffering.
Ugly Duckling Out xxx
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