Bloomin' Marvellous

Mum was trying to console me but I knew she was grieving too. At the age of 77 my Grandmother, my Mum’s Mum, the lovely lady I adored as my Nan, had suddenly been taken from us. I cried my eyes out as Mum gave me the news and we hugged each other in sympathy. We both knew the day would come eventually, but the finality hit us both hard. Why now? Why so soon?

Up until the end, Nan had lived in her own house and, although she employed a cleaner and had groceries and ready made meals delivered directly to her, she still managed to do most things for herself. Her pride and joy was her small garden at the back of the house where, using a kneeling device, she still managed to devote lots of love and attention to her beloved roses, rhododendrons, dahlias, daffodils and a plethora of other smaller, but equally colourful plants.

Although I was studying for my Masters Degree at University, I was fortunate in that it was local and I was able to still live at home. I’d never been one for over-indulging in activities often undertaken by students, but neither was I a boring Nancy-no-mates. I was pretty good at maintaining a good work-life balance.

I would visit Nan two or three times each week and loved to help her with things she needed doing and, occasionally, weeding and tending in the garden. One task she had me do on a regular basis and when it was a nice day, was to hang out her washing on the line which stretched across the garden. I used to joke as I pegged out her large white underwear, that her bloomers were hanging over her bloomers. She’d always laugh at the analogy, even when she’d heard it so many times before. Oh, how I miss that laugh.

Nan and I loved to do jigsaw puzzles together. We’d spend hours leaning over her table searching for the elusive pieces, and shrieking with joy as another piece was found and slotted into place.

“Wouldn’t you rather be spending time with friends your own age?” she sometimes asked.

“Nan, I do have friends and I see them all the time at Uni and for nights out,” I always told her. “But I love being here with you. Mum and Dad are always busy,and they just leave me to my own devices. Here I feel I can really relax. I don’t have to worry about my studies and I can tear myself away from my laptop and phone to just talk, or do jigsaws, or help dig in your garden.”

“Well, as my only grandchild, I value your company too, Jenny. It’s so nice to know that at least one young person doesn’t mind spending time with an old fogey.” We both laughed.

“You are not an old fogey, Nan. You are still young and sprightly, with many more years left in you.”

If only.

It seems that Nan had a heart attack while trying to manoeuvre a wheelbarrow full of compost across her small lawn. Her cleaner found her slumped in the garden and called for an ambulance. Despite best efforts by the paramedics, Nan passed away without recovering, soon after arriving at the hospital.

Mum received a phone call from the cleaner as soon as the ambulance had been called and she rushed off to the hospital. I had been at Uni and only found out the news when I got home. While Mum and I were consoling each other, I could hear Dad on the phone to the Undertakers making arrangements. That made us cry even more.

Eventually we calmed down to think a little more rationally. “I think we should have a wreath made with flowers from her garden,” I said. “And some roses placed inside the coffin with her. She loved those roses the most and would want to take some with her.”

“Darling, that is the most wonderful and thoughtful suggestion,” Mum said. “We’ll arrange that together.”

It was just over a week later, after we had said our final goodbyes at the crematorium, that Mum, Dad and I drove to the family’s solicitor to hear the contents of Nan’s will being read out. Of course they both already knew the contents and would be acting as Executors, but what came next was a complete surprise to me.

Most of Nan’s investments had been left to Mum, with just a small bequest to a local charity that Nan had always supported. However, to my shock and my parents’ delight, Nan had left her cottage and a sizable amount of money to me.

“I knew your Nan was going to do that for you, Jenny, and I wholeheartedly approved her decision,” Mum said in response to my mouth springing open like a fish in water. “She was always grateful for your company and your help in the garden. She felt that you would be the right person to keep it as beautiful as she did.”

“I - I - I’m speechless.You mean, I get to keep her cottage, for myself?”

“Yes, Jenny. You’re old enough now to be a property owner and, while we don’t want to throw you out, your Dad and I think it will be good for you to have your own place. And, what’s more, it’s only a mile or so away from us and still close to Uni. What do you think?”

“My gast has never been so flabbered. I’m overwhelmed. But yes, I’ll love the place just as Nan did, and I’ll love looking after the garden.”

“As someone about to get a Masters Degree in Botany and Horticulture, I’d expect nothing less. And, of course, you can always come to us whenever you don’t like cooking for yourself or just need a chat.

“If you need any small jobs doing, like putting up shelves or hanging pictures, you know who to call,” Dad said, hugging his daughter. “Like your Mum says, you’re a big girl now. You’ll value your independence without feeling totally alone. You’re Nan loved you very much and, though we’re all sad that she’s not with us any more, we know that you’ll keep her memory alive by just being in her old house.”

“The first thing I’m going to do is hang up a big picture of her. Well, at least I’ll get the picture and you can hang it up, Dad.”

“Brilliant idea, love.”

As the following week was the Easter break at Uni, I moved all my possessions into Nan’s, no, my new cottage. It felt strange that she wasn’t there to supervise me. I kept all her furniture as, while it was quite old it was seviceable. Also, I didn’t just want to throw away everything that reminded me of the good times we had shared as I grew up. However, I drew the line at her bed. I couldn’t face the thought of sleeping in what had been hers, so Dad helped me to move mine in instead.

I also brought my own desk; a beautiful double fronted, roll-top masterpiece that was my pride and joy. It held all my files and research notes, as well as all my stationery items that were so familiar, and necessary for me.

Mum helped me to stock my cupboards and fridge with supplies, then we both spent a few hours dusting, cleaning and rearranging. Taking pride of place in the living room,on the wall above the fireplace, was the picture I had had blown up from one of my favourite photos of Nan.

As I sat alone on that first evening, I cried as I stared at the picture. “I miss you, Nan, but I know you’ll always be with me. And I promise to look after your beloved garden.” I blew a kiss to her image and, in my heart, I felt that she reciprocated the gesture.

One thing that I did have to arrange was a wifi network. Nan was a techno-phobe and still used a landline phone, a box TV with four channels, and sterogram with radio, a turntable and cassette player, but no CD player. I needed to upgrade.

Mum and Dad bought me a wonderful house-warming present. They arrived on that first weekend with a large, flat-screen TV, together with a DVD/Blu-ray/CD player, plus a device to connect the screen to the internet for streaming content. I couldn’t believe their generosity, but took them out to the pub for a meal to thank them.

A couple of weeks later I acted as apprentice to Dad as he stripped the old wallpaper from the walls in the living room and bedroom, and hung something more resembling a young person’s tastes in its place. He also repainted all the woodwork, making the whole house look brighter and warmer.

When I wasn’t attending classes or studying at home, I spent most of my spare time making sure that the garden did not deteriorate. It was a labour of lov

One Saturday afternoon, Mum came to visit, and she had a surprise.

“Jenny love. I have a request, or rather your Nan has a request.” I looked at her, puzzled.

“Nan told me a long time ago that when her time was up, she wanted her ashes to be used for planting a tree; an apple tree to be precise. So, I discussed it with the undertakers and they made all the arrangements to get the thing going. I’ve brought it with me and wondered if you’d like to plant it in a corner of the garden.”

“Oh, Mum, what a fabulous idea. That’s so like Nan to be so practical. Of course we can plant it here.” I paused. “Did you say apple tree?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. I’m just thinking that because of her surname - don’t tell me it’s a Granny Smith apple tree.”

“Ha ha, no, but that would have been really funny wouldn’t it? It’s actually a Golden Delicious as that was her favourite.”

“Perfect, and I know just the place to plant it. Shall we do it now?”

We went out into the garden where I selected an appropriate site, dug the hole, dropped in the plant, added the necessary feeding material and compost, then stood alongside Mum as we both admired my handiwork and offered up a silent prayer for Nan.

By the time I had finished my degree and found a job as Head Gardner at a nearby National Trust property (which had its own garden centre), that apple tree was bearing its first fruits. I took some round when I next visited Mum and Dad. We all agreed that Nan really tasted delicious.

“Bloomin’ marvellous,” Dad said. Mum and I laughed in agreement.