Memories of Joan.
13 years ago, my father passed away. This week, his mother (and my grandmother) also passed. I reached out to my cousins and family to express my condolences, and I thought I'd share my thoughts.
Luce and I knew her well for 16 (and 14) years, and Mum for even longer. In my memory, she was always a gentle lady, and I have fond memories of her husky voice, chatting with Dad, Luce and I over a cup of tea and a biscuit in the kitchen at Eastwood. I remember her laugh, which was usually a series of wheezes accompanied by a good natured smile. I remember her hair, and I remember her bickering good naturedly with Aunty Anne, often over the finer points of a film’s plot, or the activities of a neighbor I’d never met, but that Dad, Anne, Tony and Carol grew up with. They all loved a gossip and a chat, didn’t they?
I remember the pomegranate tree in her backyard, and I remember being incredibly impressed by Uncle Ren’s soccer skills in her backyard on a hot Easter weekend sometime during the mid-90s. I remember a tree stump, a Hills Hoist on a concrete path, and a shed with spiders in it. I remember talking to Uncle Tony about diving, and listening to Dad and Tony reminisce about trips up the coast. I remember the food being incredible, and I remember how much Dad, Tony, Anne and Carol cared about her. Well, I remember as much as I can, from the back of my mind where all the memories of childhood hang out, mixing and melding together.
Rest in peace, Nanny Joan. I hope you are looking down on us, enjoying a cup of tea with your husband, and both of your sons.