Nanny.

I've been contemplating for a few days now on whether or not to blog about this. For starters, it's hugely personal and it's still raw. Very raw.

In life, the only guarantee we have when we are born is that at some point, we will die. Yet, despite this, 'we', as a collective species, are all pretty bad at confronting our own mortality... until it slaps you square in the face that is. I've experienced loss before and I'm as bad as my fellow man at dealing with it. However, no amount of loss can prepare you for when you lose someone as close as your grandmother. I'm literally on an emotional rollercoaster ride at the moment but I thought writing down my feelings would act as some sort of therapy, even if the effect is only temporary.

Now, I feel I need to recognise the fact that 'Nanny' isn't the most common title for a grandmother to have. By all accounts, my grandmother actually didn't like being called 'Nanny'. However, as I was the eldest grandchild and someone who couldn't actually say 'Granny' at the time, the name stuck. Looking back now, she never looked like a 'Gran' or a 'Granny' or a 'Nan' anyway... She looked like a 'Nanny' and she was perfect. Thankfully, she accepted her title with the type of grace only a grandmother could have and she made sure to sign all of her cards with 'Nanny'.

I have always thought that if you closed your eyes really tight and imagined the archetype-grandmother, you would open your eyes to find my 'Nanny' standing and smiling in front of you. She had grey, permed hair like the Queen, something that never changed for as long as I knew her. She wore glasses and had false teeth. Her personal style was the height of 'Granny-Couture' - she was never without tartan trousers, a wooly jumper or cardigan and loafers. Chic indeed.

She had the perfect voice for a Grandmother as well. Soft and soothing, accompanied with typical Grandmother sayings such as 'Cor'; 'Blimey'; 'Crikey'; 'Wotcha' (I'm making her sound like an Australian Cockney... she wasn't). Every single birthday, the highlight of the day would be when she would ring and give a rousing rendition of 'Happy Birthday'. It was always sort of a jazzy arrangement, her own unique style. Not something that would win 'The X Factor' certainly but perfect all the same. She also had the most wonderful laugh, a sort of a giggle that came from the heart, sometimes a little shrill at the end but always full of glee.

When it came to 'Grandmother Skills', my 'Nanny' was definitely top notch. She was fantastic at sewing, even going so far as to make me a dress for my starring debut as Dorothy in my Primary School's production of 'The Wizard of Oz'. She made the best flapjack. No contest. And her hugs? Well, they were the best. Even after I grew to nearly double the height of her, she could still give you the biggest, back-breaking hugs that would literally squeeze the breath out of you. That's how much love she had to give and it was endless.

When I was a child, Katie and I would spend every summer with both my 'Nanny' and my Grandad. I wish I could remember all the amazing times we spent together at their caravan but there are far too many. Whether it was cycling up and down the road, sitting in the paddling pool, participating in dance competitions or karaoke at the clubhouse, watching 'Annie' and 'The Jungle Book' one after the other repeatedly or simply running out of bed in the morning to climb in beside them whilst they had their morning tea, they are all precious childhood memories. Ones that I will never forget to treasure.

However, as you get older, things begin to change. You begin to get a little too big to share the bed, you begin to outgrow the child movies, school starts to become a more prominent priority in your life, the distance between England and Scotland seems to grow larger, time seems to go faster and then 'BAM', you're suddenly eighteen years old and off to university, ready to begin a new chapter in your life. And yet, despite the distance, the love never dwindles or diminishes. Even though I didn't get to see my grandparents as much as I would have liked over the last few years, we certainly didn't love each other any less. And the few times we did share together in the last few years were fantastic.

Last year, when it was Katie's eighteenth, I could not have imagined at that time that that would be the last time I would ever see my 'Nanny'. It was a normal weekend and when we said 'Goodbye', I never even considered the possibility that that would be the last time I would ever see her. A little foolish in hindsight, considering that both of my grandparents were in their eighties at this point. I still never even considered it when she was admitted to hospital last month for the first time. 'Nanny' was old, yes but she was still fairly active and had plenty more years in her. I did start to worry when she was admitted a second time but having survived four heart attacks in three weeks, she seemed almost indestructible for the time being. When she was discharged, we all breathed a sigh of relief. We became complacent. Stupid really.

I spoke to her on the phone for the very last time a week ago when she was discharged. It was quite brief considering how exhausted she was but she did sound happy and that is a great comfort to me. I told her how good it was to hear her voice and how glad I was that she had got out of hospital before New Year. She told me how happy she was because she was sitting in her armchair, at home, surrounded by her family. I told her to take care of herself, that I loved her and that I would see her very soon. If there is any comfort in all of this, it's that I'm glad I told her that I loved her one last time. Because I truly did.

The last few days have been a bit of a blur. From the moment I was told she had passed away to now, it's been quick. The thought of going back to some sort of normalcy is a difficult prospect at the moment because I cannot see how things can ever be normal again. I have lost such huge part of my life and I'm unsure how to come to terms with that. I'm comforted by the fact that in the end, she was very happy and that she did not suffer. A small consolation in the midst of so much grief.

It's only now that the gravity of the situation has begun to hit me. I'm slowly realising that I will never see her again. I will never see my 'Nanny' and Grandad together again. I will never hug her again. I will never see her writing on birthday or Christmas cards ever again. I will never hear her sing 'Happy Birthday' to me ever again. I'm actually frightened that I will eventually forget what her voice sounded like.

However, as the special person she was, she lives through the ones she left behind. She lives through my Grandfather, the man she chose to spend sixty years of her life and have four children with and who I hope, will find that life is still worth living to the full, even without her. She lives through my mum and my aunts and uncles and finally, through us, her grandchildren. The last photograph she saw of me was my graduation photo whilst she was still in hospital. I hoped she realised when she looked at that photograph that she had had a huge influence on the sort of person I have become and that she was proud of me.

I hope that wherever she is now, she is at peace and although it's painful right now, I will find the strength to continue my life without her, for her. She was an incredibly special lady, a truly kind and caring person and a wonderful grandmother. And I will never forget her as long as I live.

I love you, 'Nanny', Forever and Always.