My mum died in 2009. On the day of her funeral, an idiot woman told me my children would not remember her as they were too young.
On Sunday morning, I had a bit of a lie-in and was joined by my 8 and 6 year old children.
“Do you remember Grandma?”
Both nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, I do but I can’t quite remember exactly what she looked like” said my daughter.
“I do” replied my son, “She had glasses and brown curly hair. She smiled all the time and never got angry with us even when we were really naughty”.
“Do you miss your Grandma?”
“Topsy turvy” commented my son waving his hand in a comme ci comme ca manner.
“What I can tell you Mum is that you should be more like her and when we are naughty, just smile and get us a kit kat like she used to do”.
I remember Mum being angry a lot, a woman frustated by her lack of options as I sometimes am.
It was interesting to note that my children had not seen that side to her.
Oh well, maybe there is hope of me being a good Grandma even if I am clearly a woefully inadequate Mum.