It was a couple of years ago. I was stage crewing for a show. I was encouraged by my family to go off and enjoy myself. My nana was in the makeshift hospital we made for her in the sitting room. I kissed her goodbye and off I went. I came back 2 or 3 hours later. I expected to be met with the scene of my dogs, food cooking……….nothing. It wasn’t sad but they simply said she was gone. I didn’t say goodbye. Do I regret? No. I know who she is. I know my Nana. We went to the funeral home. I felt sick. I thought – “How could I do this? She was someone else but my Nana. She was made up, perfume soaked the coffin. She had all her going out clothes on but I was stuck in the corner. My legs failed me. My mum was stroking her hair but I was screaming in my head “Get off her”. Why was I so scared? Eventually, my mam persuaded me. Why was I worried? Her skin was smooth like pearls and she looked calm. Mocking me with how stupid I’d been. She was my nana. Life, death. She was family and we should invite death as much as life.
