May 25th

Dear May 25th

We’ve had a strange relationship you and I. 15 years ago I awoke in my bed to the sound of a telephone echoing through the house. I knew what it meant, that noise at 4am. It was a call announcing that my Grandmother, my Nanna, had finally allowed cancer to take her. I got up and put clothes on in the dark.  None of us spoke as we filed out to the car and drove to the hospital where she had spent her last moments.

My Nanna was one of my most favourite people in the world. She showed her love for her family by feeding them, wrapping her arms around us and knitting warm jumpers  From the age of one until I started school I spent every weekday with her while my parents were at work.  She called me “pet” and I was her sidekick as she rode the bus, hung the washing or prepared cakes.  I often have flashbacks to the times I spent standing on a chair next to her at the kitchen bench, flour in my hair and icing on my mouth after being allowed to lick the spoon.

She was my teacher.  She taught me how to cream butter and sugar, how to cut pastry for apple pies and how not to make mashed potatoes (hers were always lumpy). She tried to teach me to knit. She instilled in me a desire to serve people, the  joy in doing simple tasks to the best of my ability and with a full heart.  Every time I iron a shirt, I think of her. Every time I express my feelings for someone by cooking for them I have her to thank for those early life lessons in love.

When she died 15 years ago, I was angry with you.  I ignored you for a few years, tried to move quickly through the day and get to the 26th without giving you much thought. I ignored people who reminded me of the significance of the day.

You see, 29 years ago a dark haired baby was born and you became a day of celebration with presents and frosted birthday cakes. 15 years ago there was no celebration, only an early morning drive in the dark and the sight of my Nanna laying cold in a hospital bed, all the love and light taken out of her.

It would be some years until you and I had a better relationship, until I didn’t feel sick when someone wished me Happy Birthday, until I could raise my glass in toasting another year.

These days I experience you with mixed emotions.  Part of me longs for cake, part of me is wrapped in sadness. A bigger part of me now knows that in leaving on May 25th my Nanna reminded me that she had given me the greatest birthday gift of all. She gave me her nurturing spirit, her abundant heart, the memory of her fluffy slippers and the feeling of being connected to people through the simple joy of feeding them.

Tagged as: birthday, family