My grandmother was born prematurely.
She weighed just 4lbs.
Her birth was traumatic, so much so that they were more concerned for her mother’s life that the lifeless child was bundled in the bloody rags, tossed in the corner of the room whilst the midwife fought to save her mums life.
It was only after about 30 mins that they heard a soft mewling from the corner and realised that my nan was still alive.
For the first few months of her life she was so tiny and fragile that she was carried around the house on a silk pillow, fed with a fountain pen filler, with her ever watchful big brother Tom to keep a close eye on her.
It always confused people when I introduced her as Nan.
But she’d been called little Nan from the day she was born.
Nancy Leticia.
She grew up to be the strongest woman I ever knew.
And she was the most selfless person too.
When her brother was 4 he fell into the canal whilst playing bowl a hoop.
Although he was pulled out alive, he was never the same again. And his sister swapped rolls with him to be the carer and protector.
She learnt to be a seamstress from her mother and did what all daughters of that generation did. They learned to keep house, to care, to provide and to selflessly support those they loved.
She met my grandfather at the local cycling club.
They would ride together every weekend they could to picnic.
When WW2 broke out my grandad was sent off to Burma and my nan secured herself a job with Rolls Royce in Birmingham.
Her job was to make parts for the spitfire engines that helped Britain to win the war.
Whilst grandad was away she paid her keep at home and saved every penny she could towards a deposit for a house, ready to make a home when VJ day was celebrated and Bob made it safely home.
Her whole life she put her family first.
Helping my grandad with his business as a butcher, working jobs to afford my mother’s ballet classes. She even saved her coop stamps each week to take my sister and I to spend them at the toy department every summer holidays.
I have no memories of her treating herself or ever putting herself first.
She lived for her family.
It was her amazing ability to save money that meant she was able to help me buy my first home.
And it was her unfaltering faith in me that was why she secured her home as collateral to buy my florist shop.
Each peak or busy time at the shop Nan would catch the bus for an hour’s ride from her house to my shop.
She would bring cooked meats for the kids tea and help write all the cards and envelopes with her beautiful handwriting. All to take the pressure off of me.
My strongest memory of her was as a woman who could take on anything that life threw at her, even up until her 93rd year. She fought hard as an unstoppable force.
Then in 2013 after a fall at home she was moved first to hospital, then to a hospice, where she slowly faded away over a period of 3 months.
When I became ill and had to make the decision to close my shop we had already lost my nan.
I carry so much guilt for my business failing.
She had held such hope and belief in me it felt like I was letting her down.
She had fought my corner from the first minuet I could remember.
And no matter what anyone ever says to try to change my mind, I can’t help but feel I let her down.
My business was as much her legacy as it was mine.
And each time I see a memory from my shop my heart breaks that I wasn’t as strong as her.
I often talk to the clouds hoping she can hear my words. Hoping she knows how grateful I am to her for everything I am. And to ask forgiveness for not inheriting her strength to keep fighting on.
Every girl needs a hero in her life and mine will always be my nan.