(Illustration: Nana Abernethy with Stephen and Sarah )

Certain grandparents stand out in our memories if they’ve been heavily involved with family members, given years of loyal and loving support to them, and if they’ve outlived other grandparents, who weren’t as fortunate to have lived so long. All of these applied to Nana Abernethy.

I’ve already mentioned the role she played in our upbringing, but nana was getting weary by the time she was in her mid-eighties, and yet, she was still able to climb and unhook a window somehow, when a next-door neighbour had locked herself out. She served others her entire life. Our family owes her a great debt.

I need to honour her memory, and say what she meant to me.

I loved her so much, she had always been there for us, and was so much part of our family, and also Uncle Bob’s family. I think the highlights of her life, were our weddings, where she dressed so smartly, and looked so proud.

She had always been a fabulous ‘home cook’, and her meat pies and her sponge puddings, were second to none, but I drew the line, when I was young, on tasting the spongy tripe she used to prepare for my granda.

They would both accompany us on family trips out in the car, and once or twice had holidays with us in our caravan.

When the two side benches were lowered, you could sleep four across the caravan easily, so Joan and I slept next to them in our sleeping bags. 

Granda once took his sleeping tablets too quickly before he was ready for bed, and I saw him keel over sideways onto the bed, with nana chiding him crying out, “Oh Willie, you haven’t taken your sleeping pills already, have you?”

We moved out of the way so that mam and nana could put his pyjamas on him, while he was still out for the count!

These are the kind of memories that bring a smile to your face even now.

I used to take Peter to visit nana each week when he was little, and she loved to see him. I would take his toy aeroplane with me in my bag, and he would believe it had flown there itself. When we left, he and I would stand at the bus stop at the end of her street, and she would keep popping out to wave at us, to see if we were still standing waiting for the bus, in the cold weather.

I would shout to her and beckon, “Get in!”

Peter would echo, “Get in!” It was so cute.

It was a weekly routine!

“Get in!”

She was a very prayerful person. I remember sleeping beside her, to keep her company, shortly after my granda died. I was just about to fall asleep, when I heard her whispering away to herself fifty to the dozen. She had her back to me, so I tapped her on her shoulder to ask if she was OK, but she told me to go to sleep, she was only saying her prayers!

Nana had always supported her family, and she had nursed her husband in his ill health, and helped with my dad too.

Now it was our turn to look after her as she grew weaker.

My mother was still working, as was Uncle Bob, and other members of the family and they visited her as often as they could.

Joan and I took turns in looking after her in our homes. She shared with me a memory of her children, Joanne and Graham being mesmerised by nana’s dentures; she would pretend her false teeth were chasing them across the bed.

We made a downstairs bedroom for her in our dining room, at our home in Kings Road. Bob and I had lots of space, and our house was handy for any of her family wishing to visit her. I would light a fire for her each morning, see to all her needs and we had some lovely chats.

But then came the day her angina proved too much for her, and the doctor advised us that she should go into hospital. I didn’t want to let her go, but my aunty pointed out if she were to need oxygen suddenly, I wouldn’t be able to provide it.

I went into her room before the ambulance came to take her off to hospital. She knew she wasn’t going to come home again.

“I’m not going to get better this time,” she said to me. I leaned over into her for a cuddle, and she wrapped her arms around me and held me close.

It was the longest cuddle ever, and we didn’t want to let go. She needed it just as much as me. As she let go, she looked at me and said, “You’re the feeling one!” Hearing those words made me feel so special.

I remember saying to her with childlike faith, “Nana when you get to heaven, will you say hello to my dad, and tell him how much I loved him?”

She nodded her head.

Everyone deserves to have time to say goodbye properly to their loved ones.

I stayed with her in the hospital, in a dim side ward throughout the night until that following morning, quite unafraid, which shows how far I’d come since I was the teenager who’d had a fear of ‘death and dying’. As I sat with her, I noticed that three times during the night, she raised herself up with both of her arms lifted up in wonder, gazing towards the ceiling, and then she would sink down onto her pillow again. It was as if she was reaching up into the great unknown. The third time it happened, I reached out and held her hand to reassure her that I was still there with her.

“I’m with you, nana,” I whispered. A nurse entered the room for her morning shift just then, and told me not to hold on and keep her back here in this world, when she needed to go to where she wanted to be.

Not long after this, my mam, my Uncle Bob and Aunty Cathie arrived, most likely summoned by the nurse, and I came home.

She died shortly after in their arms.They came at just the right time, and said their goodbyes to her, and off she went to glory to collect the crown which her own mother always said she would receive one day.

I think she held back, just to be with them, one more time. She was 88 when she died.

If you have grandparents still alive, make the most of them while you’ve still got them.

Make time for those you love!