A Day in my Life by Karen Pollard
"It's not mess, it's angel dust!" This is what my granny would plead when my mum was scalding me and my sister for making too much mess. The dark brown leaves scattered over the emerald grass reminded me of all our toys scattered over the carpets, a trail of where me and Vicky had been.
The sparkly grass was dotted with flower beds of bright colours, similar to that of the t-shirts that my granny usually donned. The trees, now bare and their coat-like burden departed to blanket the earth, keep it warm for the winter. I wish they had been keeping me warm, my chosen tarnished pewter dress, with matching cardigan, was not much protection against the relentless biting of the raw winter wind.
I remembered visiting my granny at the hospital when she had been ill, the cheerful, contagious smile never leaving her face. Remembering made me shiver; it had been so warm there, unpleasant even at times, though now I longed to be encased in that warmth. Her large grin always grew when we presented her with the flowers that we had bought for her; one bunch from me and one from Vicky, her customary flowers with the scarlet berries always out-living whatever I chose.
So many things had changed since she got ill, but although these things had changed I still had the memories.
My granny had come down to look after me and Vicky; we were sitting in the window of our dining room, on the blue and white striped futon that was covered in a crimson throw. I was looking at her gold coffee bean necklace, which she wore constantly, and we were just chatting. This is the first time I ever remember her letting me wear that necklace, I'm sure that at the time she didn't realise that I'd want to wear it every time I saw her after that.
It felt like an age ago that we had all visited Disneyland Paris, me, my cousins, family and grandparents. Where I got autographs from all the Disney stars, not realising that it wasn't the character I knew but some person dressed up in a costume. It was there that I went on my first ever, and last ever rollercoaster. "Thunder Mountain" it had been called. I had been really excited as we waited in the queue. We all climbed into the cart, my sister, mum and I, the bar was placed down onto our legs. And then the ride started to move. It swung round the first corner, realising that the bar was not touching mine or Vicky's legs grabbed us and held on for dear life. When I stopped cringing I realised that my hands were white from gripping on and that the rollercoaster had almost stopped. As we emerged back into the light my mum saw that there was blood coming from my sister's lip from where she had bitten it. Never again will I go on a rollercoaster, I decided.
Some of my cousins were here and the rest were slowly arriving. This was the first time I had seen most of them since New Year's Day when we all meet at my grandparent's house for a celebration, where we passed our time by playing "Foxes and Rabbits" a game where there were a few foxes and the rabbits had to reach the foxes den without being caught by a fox.
Now sitting on the wooden bench I thought about how my granny came all the way down to visit us and used to take my sister and me out for lunch in the Balcastle, where we would always have macaroni cheese, or the bakers, where we would have potato soup. Afterwards always she would take us to the post office and buy us a magazine each, and of course I was always allowed to wear her coffee bean necklace that I was so fixated with.
Now I always will have the coffee bean necklace. My granny had given it to me to have forever, not so much given as left. It was her funeral today, there would be no more happy days spent with my granny. All of these happy memories starkly contrast with the memories of that day.
The crematorium rose out of the green grass. It's stone dark against the white, cloud filled sky. The flowers outside in the shape of her name, "Euphemia" and the black, there was black everywhere, clothes, cars. The last possibility of me having any religion was extinguished that day. "Why would you do that? My granny wasn't a bad person, she was kind helpful... if there was a god and he was good then why would he punish an innocent person?" those were my thoughts.
I remember the warmth of my tears as they streamed down my face, all of her grandchildren, my cousins, were exchanging hugs. Then we sat silently, inside the cold crematorium to say our last goodbyes to my beloved granny.
But she has not gone forever, she is still alive in my memories, as long as I have memories she will not entirely leave.
