Nan
I wrote this as a frank and honest portrait of my Nan’s life 8 years before she died. She never really got over the sudden death of my grandpa when he was only 61. I wouldn’t wish this kind of loss on anyone. Life is sometimes very unfair.
She lives in the past, disgusted by the present day
She remembers, with fondness, a more genteel way
When people dressed for dinner and courtesy was the norm
There were no crude jokes and love was true and warm
She was devoted to her husband, said it was love at first sight
He played jazz piano, a real gentleman, he smoked a pipe
They were involved with the theatre, amateut operatics
He the muscial director, she the actress, dramatic
Their social life was cricket clubs and dances
Parties and weddings, life was so romantic
They had a child, a girl, my mother
I never found out why they didn’t have another
They doted on her and brought her up well
They holidayed in Wales, life was swell
Their daughter married and had two sons
My brother and I were the spoiled ones
Kind and loving grandparents they were to us
Always giving us sweets and making a fuss
Then out of the blue when I was only seven
My grandpa’s heart stopped and he went to heaven
My Nan still mourns him though it was 21 years ago
She’s not been happy since and just refuses to grow
She shunned all her friends who tried to rally round
She closed in on herself, but solace could not be found
She moved with my family to a bigger house
But the tension that created was not so very nice
Three generations shouldn’t live under one roof
It just doesn’t work, I’ve seen the proof
She bought a chalet in herbeloved Wales
And spends most of the year there indignant and pale
Languishing in memories of a past that’s gone forever
She listens to no one and thinks everyone’s trying to be clever
She’s eighty two now and suffers with her knees
She fusses and forgets things, never seems to be at ease
She moans about people in general and hasn’t a good word to say
Unless someone reminds her of her husband in some subtle way
We love her and feel sorry for the life she’s chosen to lead
But there’s little we can do, after all, it’s her life, indeed.
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