An open letter to my Gran

Dear Gran

I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you this week. There’s a bug in your nursing home so they have closed it to visitors to stop the spread of infection. I hope you aren’t too lonely. The last time this happened, we couldn’t visit for weeks, and I was worried you wouldn’t remember me by the time I finally got to see you.

It’s not as easy to spend time with you now. I can’t just come to the house as and when I please, letting myself in with my key. Because you don’t live there anymore. I try to avoid your house when possible. It makes me sad knowing that someone else will be living there soon, sleeping in your bedroom and enjoying your garden. It’s maybe a good thing that you don’t remember it, as I’m sure it would make you upset too.

I have so many memories of that house, from playing in the garden with the dog when I was little, to living out my teenage years, when I moved in with you. We fought all the time – our most memorable fight being when you wouldn’t let me leave the house wearing a pair of tights which had one black leg and one white! And yet you were always there for me. On the morning I opened my exam results, on the day I graduated. You were the one who dragged me to the doctor when I was depressed. You were the first person I called after getting married (and I always felt a little bit guilty that you weren’t on that beach with me.) I would give anything now to hear you moan at me for not tidying my room.

You always spoke your mind and I loved that about you. You were so full of life, and even now when I hear you make a snide remark about another resident, or staff member at the home, it makes me smile, because it gives me hope that there is still a little bit of you left in there.

It was never meant to be this way. You were always so fit. So strong. You beat cancer twice. You were supposed to live a long and healthy life. And yet a part of you is gone now, and will never return. I can’t speak to you on the phone anymore and tell you about my day. I have lost a lifelong friend. And a piece of me feels dead inside, because the best parts of me were influenced by you. You have helped me to become the strong willed, independent person I am today. I am so glad that you complained about my messiness and forced me to study. I’m doing well now Gran, and the house is (nearly) always clean!

There are so many things I wish I could tell you. I knew you weren’t immortal, but I thought I’d have more time than this. I wish I could tell you what an inspiration you’ve been. I wish I could say thank you, for looking after me for all those years. And above all, I wish I could tell you how much you are loved. Because you are Gran. So deeply loved. I hope a part of you knows this. I hope long after the recognition has gone from your face, that love will still live on in your heart.

So I’ll see you next week Gran. And we’ll go for a walk, and I’ll try and get you to drink tea, and you’ll pace around and I’ll tell you about my week. And you’ll smile and talk nonsense and I’ll leave feeling sad that we can’t talk like we used to. But I’ll keep coming Gran. Because the love I have for you is unconditional. And even if you don’t recognise me, I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you.

Love you always

Laura xxx