Grandma.

 Some people are terrified of clowns. Maybe thats why she liked them? She always had a different opinion, always liked to be controversial. Openly called herself the 'black sheep' of the family. The 'bad' grandma. 

I didn't think that losing her would affect me as much as what it has. That sounds terrible. 

When she found out that she was dying she started to give away her clown collection. She told me I could take as many as I wanted, but it felt so strange. I quietly took a paper mache clown that I could remember wanting to play with when I was little. She wasn't happy with me just taking one, and Scarlet and I left with our arms full. And now I'm so glad. I walk past them, and think of her.

We spent a week in Sydney, spending time with family and catching up with friends. I saw my grandmother a few times in hospital, the last time I saw her she had moved from the hospital into a nursing home. She wasn't in any pain, and aside from having lost a lot of weight she was the same as always. telling me I wear too much black. And telling me that if I dare dye my hair black again she WILL come back and haunt me. When we said goodbye she pulled me in close, and said that she wouldn't get to hug me again. I laughed. An uncomfortable laugh, and also because she seemed so OK, I thought she had months left. Not hours. But she knew.

On our first visit to the hospital I noticed some yellow roses at the florist on the way in. I quickly grabbed them, not thinking much of it. Up in her room I briefly showed them to her, and just placed them on the bench beside her- I didn't even put them in a vase. On the second visit I noticed that the yellow roses were in a vase, and had fully bloomed. They were beautiful, but a tiny bunch, compared to all the other flowers in the room. When we went to see her in the nursing home she had taken that one bunch of flowers with her. She said the yellow flowers were her favorite. By this stage the roses were wilting, and browning around the edges. I was surprised that she had bothered to take them from the hospital. 

 I thought about it later, and those flowers were how that week was. It was so nice, catching up with my grandmother. Even tho it was in a hospital, she was still a feisty, talkative yellow rose. A few days later she was still in full bloom. Opinionated as ever (and apparently red boots and a blue flower in my hair didn't detract from the black outfit....). But as the flowers wilted so did she. It was just so quick.     

Grandmothers are so special. Her love and support was unwavering. She would happily tell you if she didn't agree with something you might be doing, but once she said her bit she was happy.

Oh, and as for having the final word. I wasn't allowed to wear black to her funeral. When my uncle called me to tell me the funeral arrangements he just slid that one in "oh, and she said you weren't allowed to wear any black" So I wore white. With bright blue shoes. She would have approved :)

Grandmothers are so special, they should stay with us forever.

m.xx