Remembering Nan
I was rummaging through a box of old papers on the weekend and found the notes I made to speak at my grandmother’s funeral nearly 20 years ago.
Reading those words now makes me smile. It brings back vivid memories of not only who she was to me, but also of the wonderful, warm, kind woman she was to everyone who knew her.
It also reminds me how vital it is for us to record in the moment – in whatever format – our knowledge and memories of the people who are part of our lives. In the digital age we live in, it’s so easy for such memories to fade into the ether or be consigned to the e-Bin with a click of the delete button.
How I wish I had some contemporary descriptions of who my ancestors really were. Yes, I have names, dates, places, and occupations, and sometimes letters and newspaper articles, but there are very few of my more distant ancestors that I feel I truly know. Who were they as people? What mattered to them? How did they connect with their families and those around them? How were they remembered after they're gone?
Without memories like these notes of mine, Honora Veronica Walsh might just be an entry on a pedigree chart – a name and some dates – for future generations.
Of course, she was so much more than that.
Here then are my memories of my Nan, shared with my family in 2008.
Honora Veronica Collis, nee Walsh
24 September 1911 – 2 May 2008
Honora Veronica Walsh c1930
9 May 2008
I consider it a huge responsibility – and honour – to represent our family as we celebrate what Nan meant to us all. Over the last few days, I have had a chat with Dad, Mum, Maree, Andrew and Gina, and although we all have different stories to relate, we all remember a very special lady who was always there for us and interested in what we were doing, a “rock” who guided and supported us - someone who loved us unconditionally.
We were very lucky that we lived so close to Nan & Pa – it was simply a dash through the bush when we needed a shoulder to cry on, needed a refuge when we were being given a hard time by a sibling or parent, or when we simply wanted to spend time with our grandparents. She always made us feel like we were special - but I think she made everyone feel like that.
She always had time for us – to teach us stuff or simply to play and have fun. I’ll never forget when she came home from hospital after having her gallstones removed - with her gallstones in a jar! Horrible things they were, and they sat on the mantelpiece for months. Eventually, we decided we should bury them in the garden. So with great ceremony, we threw them under the tree just outside the back door at Yarra Rd and stuck a makeshift cross in the ground that read “here lies Nanny’s gallstones”. She thought it was a great laugh!
And she taught us so much. How to cook (although we would often point out to her that “our mother doesn’t do it like that!!), how to do crosswords (however I must confess I never noticed her fill in the word “wotchercorm” in any of the crosswords I did with her!), how to be brave (she would be very happy to know I am no longer afraid of the moon!), to knit, to play canasta - the list just goes on and on. While there is no doubt it was Pa who instilled in me a love of books, it was Nan who taught me the joy of reading.
She was a role model to all of us – there was nothing she couldn’t do, and she gave us the confidence that there was nothing we couldn’t do either. Whenever Andrew made a duck at cricket (which wasn’t very often), she would encourage him by reminding him that Don Bradman had made his fair share of ducks as well.
Nan was a real “hands-on” Nan; she shared in and was proud of all our achievements. We took great pride in showing her our school reports. We would run down to show them to her as soon as Mum and Dad had finished reading them. And some things never change - within a week or so of the arrival of each of Maree’s four greatest achievements, she was showing them to Nan.
Nan was always interested and engaged in everything around her – what her children, grand children and great grandchildren were up to, which royal was getting married to who (who knows how many times she watched repeats of Charles & Diana’s wedding??!!), even new technology. There can’t be too many 90-year-olds out there sending emails!
She always found the positive in every situation, and she lived in today, not in yesterday and not in tomorrow. She just rolled up her sleeves and got on with the job, whether it was chopping wood for the fire or cleaning up after a kitchen disaster.
As part of her weight watchers diet, Nan used to make what she called “garbage soup” - whatever vegies were in the fridge cooked up together and then blended together. It was actually quite nice. On one occasion she poured the cooked vegies into the blender and turned it on – forgetting to put the lid on first. There was garbage soup everywhere! In typical fashion she had a laugh and just got to and cleaned it up.
Nan never ran out of room in her heart. There was always space for anyone who needed love and understanding. She never judged – she accepted all of us for who we were.
And this instinct to nurture was not limited to looking after her family. When I was chatting to Dad the other day he told me how, when the family lived in Newmerella, every week Nan would wash the football jumpers of the entire Numeralla football team – all 20 of them! There was a significant Aboriginal population in the area, and Nan worked closely with the Aboriginal women to give them knowledge and confidence so that they could clothe and educate their children.
Like many of her grandchildren, I was desperate to grow tall enough to reach the top button on her dressing gown. It’s funny the things you remember – as clearly as if it were yesterday, I can see her standing with her back against the fireplace in Yarra Rd in her dressing gown, and me trying to cheat and stand on tiptoes so my head would reach that ever elusive button. Our reward for reaching that button was 50 cents, and we of course identified being nearly as tall as Nan with being grown up. But deep down I think it was more than that. We didn’t just want to be as tall as Nan, we wanted to be like her, and in our child’s mind her height represented her wisdom, her strength, her abilities - all those things that made her who she was.
For those of you who are lucky enough to have grandchildren living so close to you that you see them nearly every day, know that the experiences you share with them, the love and support that you give them and the things that you teach them will play a huge part in developing the way they see themselves and their place in the world. The memories of the times you spend with them will stay with them forever.