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So Well Remembered
by Phyllis Owen
Nan, my diminutive four-foot
something, great grandmother, looked dwarfed in the huge chair as she dozed
silently opposite me. It was Christmas
day and after an enormous lunch, the family had one by one, slowly made their
way upstairs for a nap. Nan and I chose
to relax in the lounge, but within seconds she had fallen asleep.
I picked up a magazine and idly paged through it. Every now and again, out of the corner of my
eye, I would gaze at Nan in admiration and affection. She was ninety-one, seventy-one years older than I was! I gasped.
It was hard to imagine anyone living for so long. She had even outlived most of her
children. She once told me she was well
aware of being old, but she still felt like the girl she was at twenty.
Nan was a legend in our
family and had the most wonderful stories to tell. I studied her face. Her
skin was still beautiful, like a kind of porcelain and she looked at least
twenty years younger than her age. Must
be her good gene structure. Hope it’s
been passed down to me.
I became engrossed in a story
when suddenly I heard a slight cough and looked up. Nan, her eyes twinkling mischievously, smiled at me. She had a lovely warm smile.
‘You have your Gramps’ blue
eyes, my dear,’ she whispered, ‘with the same magnetic depth, like dark pools
of mystery.’ She smiles and I can see
in her face the woman she must have been all those years ago.
I laughed. ‘Mum calls it deviousness,’ I replied and
added, ‘she showed me a photo of you and Gramps on your wedding day. Your dress was beautiful, Nan.’
‘Oogh, my child, that was,’ her
eyes had a dreamy, faraway look as if she had returned to that era,
‘seventy-three years ago!’ She
chuckled. ‘Eons before you even became a twinkle in your father’s eye.’
‘I wish I could have met
Gramps,’ I told her, wistfully. ‘My
Gran, your youngest child, Nan, told me he was kind and patient and a wonderful
father.’
‘Aye,’ Nan put in. ‘He was that and the true love of my
life. That is what I wish for you one
day, Delene. I hope you meet your soul
mate.’
I shook my head. ‘Mum says I’m too ‘pickie’ and don’t give
the men I meet a fair chance.’
‘I don’t believe that. You’ll know when Mister Right comes along.’
‘Gramps died over thirty years
ago and you’re a beautiful woman, Nan, didn’t you get any marriage proposals?’
Nan looked at me mischievously
and laughed. ‘I had a few offers over
the years and I nearly succumbed to one in particular, but I found out in time
that it was only his blue eyes that drew me to him.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘I
simply couldn’t replace Gramps, he was the only one I’ve ever loved. You never forget people. They move to the
back of your mind and become a memory, but now and again something happens to
jog it. I have a bank of wonderful
memories, like painted pictures in my mind, bringing such comfort to me.’ She smiled and added, ‘You must share your
memories with someone otherwise they only live in your head.’
‘But you must have been
lonely,’ I broke in.
‘No, my child, life has been
good to me and having the family so close is most fulfilling, giving me much
pleasure. Your Gramps and me brought up
seven children who in turn had more children.’
A sudden sadness came over her and her eyes dulled.
‘Little Edna,’ I whispered.
Nan nodded. ‘Even to this day I still think of her. You never forget the death of a child. She was only five years old when she died, a
little scrap of a thing. In those days
there was no treatment for epilepsy.’
‘Mum told me about your
dream,’ I began. ‘You had been crying
for days on end and then one night little Edna came to ask you to please stop
crying.’
Nan shook her head
slowly. ‘It wasn’t a dream, my
dear. I was sitting up in bed when she
appeared holding a lighted candle and pleaded with me. ‘Please, Mama,’ she said, ‘Don’t cry
anymore. You are putting out my candle
and I can’t find the way to heaven.’
From that time on I was comforted and never shed another tear.’
‘Please tell me again the
story of how you eventually came to live in England,’ I urged. ‘I’ve forgotten
most of it over the years.’
Nan sighed. ‘I was about twelve when I left France with
my parents to make a new life in Cape Town, South Africa. The long journey on the ship was a
nightmare. My mother was so frail and
weak from the fever that ravaged through the ship and many a night I was sure
she would die. At last we arrived in
Cape Town and for a short while stayed in a boarding house before moving to a
farm on the outskirts of the city where Papa was to work. We had a small cottage attached to the main
house.’
As I was listening to Nan’s
voice I could detect a slight French and perhaps Dutch intonation in some words
that I hadn’t previously noticed. When
I was a child I had become so accustomed to her voice I never heard the
difference. To me she was just my own
dear Nan, the same as everyone else.
She looked at me and
smiled. ‘Are you sure you want me to
continue?’
‘Yes, please, Nan,’ I begged.
‘I was happier than I had been
for a long time. Then Mama died giving
birth to my sister, Maggie. Papa and I
were devastated. In spite of it all, Maggie thrived. Then fate dealt us another blow. Papa was killed in a train accident on his
way to Cape Town to order implements for the farm. The farmer and his wife took Maggie and me into their home and
brought us up with their children. The
van Heerdens became our family. We were
very fortunate. They were good people.’
Swallowing hard, I blinked
back the tears. Fortunate! Not the word I would use after all that!
‘Then the Boer War happened,’
continued Nan. ‘England declared war on
the Boers. Boer means a South African
of Dutch descent and also the name given to a farmer. The war started in the Transvaal where gold was discovered. The immigrants, mainly British, outnumbered
the Boers. The Boers starved them of
their political rights because they knew the immigrants would take over their
land. Gold was the reason. Most of the farmers, including Mister van
Heerden left to join the Boers to fight the British soldiers, so the women and
children had to run the farms. Times
were hard. War was declared on the 11 October 1899 and lasted for two and
three-quarter long years. War does
terrible things to people, even good people.
I’m not going into all the horrible side of the war years, but when it was
over we began again.’
Her face brightened and I
smiled knowing what was to come.
‘Because of all the hardships the
British sent mounted policemen to the farms to see what our needs were and to
help if necessary. The young British
mounted policeman who called on our farm was none other than William Douglas
Kitching.’
‘Gramps!’ I whispered.
Nan smiled, ‘The one and
only. It was love at first sight for
both of us. I’ll never forget the way
my heart soared when he asked me to marry him.
We had a wonderful wedding. All
the surrounding farmers, their wives and children came to celebrate with
us.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Gramps always yearned to return to England,
his ‘own land’ he would often say. So
after a couple of years we did just that and took Maggie with us. The rest as you would say, is history. We had forty-one happily married years
together when he died suddenly of a heart attack and I thought my world had
ended. I felt so empty and lonely. Time heals everything so the saying
goes. But that’s not true. You just learn to accept it. Life must go on and I have precious memories
that always give me a warm feeling inside.
I often dream of being with him again.’
I looked at her
quizzically. She fell silent, a slightly
puzzled look on her face. I had a
curious feeling something wasn’t quite right.
Suddenly she sat up straight, her face alight. A smile came rushing up from deep inside her lighting up her
whole face. ‘William!’ she called,
holding out her arms, then she slumped back into the chair. I knew she was gone. I sat motionless for a few seconds feeling
completely at peace and not sad at all, privileged to witness her passing
through the phantom walls that separate this world from the next to be with her
beloved who had passed on. It was a
moment I knew I would never forget, like being given a precious gift. Slowly I got up from the chair and made my
way upstairs to break the news.
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