I can't imagine her being this young. I can see my Mum's resemblance to her, though.
I loved my Nan.
She died in 1973, when I was living in England I was 24. She had had strokes for many years, and lapsed into the world of Alzheimer's. Although she always seemed to remember me when I visited her out at Greenacres where she spent the last years of her life. I always took a bag of sweets for her, and loved to scare her by running fast with her wheelchair. Seems so strange that she died while I was away, it's something you don't really imagine, especially if they have always been there, in your life.
I loved some of her 'old' clothes. I even altered some to wear. She had an old fox 'wrap' that was fashionable. As a child I didn't know why someone would want a dead fox slung around their shoulders. I loved a crepe navy outfit of hers with cut-out filigree pockets. I still have the hand-painted porcelain jars off of her dressing table. I used to lace her corsets for her, and tie her in. She had ulcers on her legs and I would help dress them daily. As her memory faded I was the one who would find her 'stolen' purse or handbag. When she went into a home, we had to put coins in a purse so she wouldn't panic. She loved a small glass of sherry if the occasion arose. I can still remember her at my Dad's wake when I was 18. She said that she could see Dad with Grandpa 'playing handies' up in heaven. I enjoyed her take on life. I have outlined some of her stories of the aboriginies and so forth earlier in this blog. I would watch her cook and probably learnt good basic cooking from her.
This painting is a pastel I did - of Nan's dressing table jars, and, as it has it - Auntie Dulcie's crochet half lady milk cover. Mother and daughter.
