The Day My Grandma Died

A little bit of background – My grandmother often dressed in blue and loved roses. The nuns talked my parents out of taking me to her funeral (I was 10) so this is actually one of my fondest memories of my paternal grandmother. She had a wicked sense of humour and would have derived much enjoyment from seeing her four sons squirm at being caught out. For years my father talked of his regret that his mother’s last word to him was to call him a buggar…….. something she never did during her lifetime.

THE DAY MY GRANDMA DIED

The brothers four sat round her bed

Terry and Bill, Pat and Jim.

And as they sat, they reminisced

Of things that once had been.

They talked about Nan’s turkeys

Those big and heavy birds

Of how they scored some extra feeds;

Tales Nan had never heard.

They talked of how they’d walk the birds

To the top of the western hill.

They’d bring the two farm dogs along

Both found the chase a thrill.

They knew just what they had to do

And rushed with barking loud.

The birds took off, but being big

Could just get off the ground.

With downhill flight they gathered speed

The dogs both close behind.

Grandfather Dan knew what they did

But his stomach didn’t mind.

They reached the bottom of the hill

Just four feet off the grass

They had no way of stopping then,

Their speed was pretty fast.

The back wall of th house drew close

Their speed they couldn’t check

And when they hit that solid wall,

One sometimes broke its neck.

Then Nan would pluck and cook that bird.

They’d all eat well that night

Cold turkey on their bread next day

Was deemed to taste just right.

Now Nana never did find out

What made her turkeys fly

Until her sons sat round her bed

On the day that she would die.

They didn’t’ see her eyelids lift

As they talked so free and quiet

Until they saw her move her head

And look from side to side.

She glared at each of them in turn

“Buggars, all!” she cried

She glared again and closed her eyes

And then she quietly died.