Master of None Blog

Memories of my Grandma

My Grandma was 90 years old the last time I saw her and despite her persistent remarks about how her legs were going to start working again I could see her slowing up.

As I walked down the church aisle between the pews people looked at me sympathetically wearing my friend’s clothes which I had to borrow because I didn’t own anything black. My relative’s reminiscing was integrated with short passages from the vicar. He talked about how my Grandma was entering the gates of heaven and I sat there thinking if I don’t believe that then she has to be gone. I have to accept that. I knew me being there and respecting her faith was what she wanted but I couldn’t help feeling somewhat of a traitor in the church. My brothers all seemed to deal with it very well but I keep thinking of her at the most unusual times. I went to my mum and dad’s house for a few weeks over Easter and ran into her button tin. Most of the buttons had been segregated depending on their colour or shape but some had escaped their bags and lay orphaned at the bottom of the tin. It was then that I decided to sort the button tin. I became completely fascinated by each button, as if each one might reveal some hidden bit of information about Grandma that I’d never known. Some were in sets of six, obviously bought for whatever she was making at the time and others were all by themselves, maybe they had fallen off her clothes, maybe she’d just bought extra in the likelihood of that happening. They had all passed through her fingers at some point. She’d given me the box years before she died because my mum told her I would find them useful in my work, she didn’t mention Grandma’s chronic arthritis or her inability to sew as a result of it. She kept an unfinished tapestry above her wardrobe with coloured threads in a box above it even after she’d been moved to a home. The tapestry has now been left for me and my mother to finish.