Remember, that I'm blessed
I watched Beauty and the Beast this morning and remembered how you and I went to the cinema six times to see it. By that stage we could recite the whole film.
I can remember every detail about your granny flat, right down to the rows of perfume you kept next to the bath and the doors leading to the kitchen which reminded me of a western bar. I remember that cubord you had which was filled with puzzles and books you'd bought me and those trays you'd brought back from England that you served me dinner on. I can remember the glass bowl of lollies you kept next to the tellie, how much you loved those shell chocolates and the exact books I repeatedly made you read to me before bed. I remember waking up on those Saturday mornings with the sun beaming in my eyes and running into your bed where you'd bring me breakfast and I'd watch you complete the cross words in months old Woman's Day magazines.
I remember way back before Southland Shopping Center was like a rabbit warren with bridges and multi level car parks, when the Supermarket was only minutes away. We'd walk together and make up stories as we went. Down that alley way, where there was a hole in the wire fencing, just big enough for us to climb through. We'd buy the groceries and you'd always let me pick out a new book at the register.
I can remember when it was your birthday and we took you to the animal shelter to pick out a new cat. We spent hours there because you insisted that you'd know which one to pick as soon as you saw it. I remember trying to convince you to buy a kitten instead. That's when Chammy put on his little show in the cage. He'd purr as you patted him and rolled around at your feet. You knew he was the one.
I remember when Mum and Dad went to Hong Kong and you stayed with Jules and I at home for a week. You couldn't drive, so every morning we'd walk down the street where you'd kiss me goodbye at the gate. You were always early to pick me up. The next time I can recall you staying at our house was just after my 6th birthday. You were sick.
I remember on Christmas morning, waking up excited to a new computer. You always spent Christmas morning with us. You spoiled us rotten with an extra Santa Sack for us, filled with more of those puzzles and books I loved. You weren't there that morning. I remember asking Jules where you were and him telling me that you weren't coming. He repeatedly screamed "She's dead, She's dead.." I didn't believe him. I remember running downstairs in my pyjamas to Mum and Dad who were in the kitchen. They told me you were in the hospital.
I don't remember much else about that Christmas. You didn't want Julian or I seeing you too much in the hospital. You were so worried about who would look after Chammy if "something happened". I remember watching you in the hospital bed, you were wearing the bracelet I made you, the one with big letters saying "NINNY". You died wearing it.
I remember your funeral so well. One Sweet Day was playing. I remember Mum asking me a few days before if I wanted to put anything in your coffin. I drew a picture. You, me and Chammy. I remember placing it on top of your coffin and blowing you a kiss goodbye.
I found a box yesterday. It was filled of all the things which remind me of you. Those books, a blue silk bag filled with all your perfume, broaches and clip on earings. There were the toys from the bed, your poetry books and your prayer book. I found some things which I thought I'd forgotten, like the piece of coral you wore on a chain and the necklace you gave me for my 6th birthday, that last birthday I spent with you.
I can remember nearly nine years later, how I felt when I went to Greece. That sick feeling that "something would happen" to Chammy while we were away. I remember how much I loved Greece because there were so many friendly cats on the streets. I'd stop and let everyone walk ahead. I'd sit on the pavement and let them come to me. I remember the one kitten who followed me into our apartment in Santorini, it was like a miniature Chammy. I remember flying home after that month and a half away. I knew he'd gone. That beautiful, last living part of you was gone, the part I'd held onto for so many years. It was as if I'd lost you all over again. I remember the day we went to the cemetery and placed his ashes above your grave. It was comforting that he was back in your care after so many years.
I can remember all the times I've "spoken" to you, it's nearly every day. I can remember how many times I've been upset thinking of how young you were, how young I was. It saddens me knowing how close we'd be now. As I grow older I realise how much we truly do have in common. We'd still be spending those Saturday mornings together. On so many occasions I wish for nothing more than for you to be here. There are so many things that I know you'd enjoy now, like your two great grandchildren. I know you're there, but on so many days, like my formal night, I just wish I could see you standing in front of me smiling.
And as I sit here crying, remembering you and the times when we were together I realise that I'm blessed. Blessed that I can remember you and those times so well. Blessed that in my heart, I know you're still here.
I can remember every detail about your granny flat, right down to the rows of perfume you kept next to the bath and the doors leading to the kitchen which reminded me of a western bar. I remember that cubord you had which was filled with puzzles and books you'd bought me and those trays you'd brought back from England that you served me dinner on. I can remember the glass bowl of lollies you kept next to the tellie, how much you loved those shell chocolates and the exact books I repeatedly made you read to me before bed. I remember waking up on those Saturday mornings with the sun beaming in my eyes and running into your bed where you'd bring me breakfast and I'd watch you complete the cross words in months old Woman's Day magazines.
I remember way back before Southland Shopping Center was like a rabbit warren with bridges and multi level car parks, when the Supermarket was only minutes away. We'd walk together and make up stories as we went. Down that alley way, where there was a hole in the wire fencing, just big enough for us to climb through. We'd buy the groceries and you'd always let me pick out a new book at the register.
I can remember when it was your birthday and we took you to the animal shelter to pick out a new cat. We spent hours there because you insisted that you'd know which one to pick as soon as you saw it. I remember trying to convince you to buy a kitten instead. That's when Chammy put on his little show in the cage. He'd purr as you patted him and rolled around at your feet. You knew he was the one.
I remember when Mum and Dad went to Hong Kong and you stayed with Jules and I at home for a week. You couldn't drive, so every morning we'd walk down the street where you'd kiss me goodbye at the gate. You were always early to pick me up. The next time I can recall you staying at our house was just after my 6th birthday. You were sick.
I remember on Christmas morning, waking up excited to a new computer. You always spent Christmas morning with us. You spoiled us rotten with an extra Santa Sack for us, filled with more of those puzzles and books I loved. You weren't there that morning. I remember asking Jules where you were and him telling me that you weren't coming. He repeatedly screamed "She's dead, She's dead.." I didn't believe him. I remember running downstairs in my pyjamas to Mum and Dad who were in the kitchen. They told me you were in the hospital.
I don't remember much else about that Christmas. You didn't want Julian or I seeing you too much in the hospital. You were so worried about who would look after Chammy if "something happened". I remember watching you in the hospital bed, you were wearing the bracelet I made you, the one with big letters saying "NINNY". You died wearing it.
I remember your funeral so well. One Sweet Day was playing. I remember Mum asking me a few days before if I wanted to put anything in your coffin. I drew a picture. You, me and Chammy. I remember placing it on top of your coffin and blowing you a kiss goodbye.
I found a box yesterday. It was filled of all the things which remind me of you. Those books, a blue silk bag filled with all your perfume, broaches and clip on earings. There were the toys from the bed, your poetry books and your prayer book. I found some things which I thought I'd forgotten, like the piece of coral you wore on a chain and the necklace you gave me for my 6th birthday, that last birthday I spent with you.
I can remember nearly nine years later, how I felt when I went to Greece. That sick feeling that "something would happen" to Chammy while we were away. I remember how much I loved Greece because there were so many friendly cats on the streets. I'd stop and let everyone walk ahead. I'd sit on the pavement and let them come to me. I remember the one kitten who followed me into our apartment in Santorini, it was like a miniature Chammy. I remember flying home after that month and a half away. I knew he'd gone. That beautiful, last living part of you was gone, the part I'd held onto for so many years. It was as if I'd lost you all over again. I remember the day we went to the cemetery and placed his ashes above your grave. It was comforting that he was back in your care after so many years.
I can remember all the times I've "spoken" to you, it's nearly every day. I can remember how many times I've been upset thinking of how young you were, how young I was. It saddens me knowing how close we'd be now. As I grow older I realise how much we truly do have in common. We'd still be spending those Saturday mornings together. On so many occasions I wish for nothing more than for you to be here. There are so many things that I know you'd enjoy now, like your two great grandchildren. I know you're there, but on so many days, like my formal night, I just wish I could see you standing in front of me smiling.
And as I sit here crying, remembering you and the times when we were together I realise that I'm blessed. Blessed that I can remember you and those times so well. Blessed that in my heart, I know you're still here.