Love and death

Last year on 4th September my beloved grandfather died after being ill for some time. Today almost a full year later his wife of many years, my grandmother slipped away in her sleep in hospital.

Many are the memories I have of both of them. He was a loving gentle man who enjoyed nothing more in later life than a comfy chair, a cup of tea and a slice of cake. He spent his early years on Jersey and returned there for holidays every year he could. That is also where his loves of steam trains and cream teas began. He had a special wave for myself and my brother. So many memories…

My grandma was strong willed and loved being the centre of attention. She was a wonderful amateur actress and had performed in many plays when younger and directed a range of things with the W.I. in later years. In the last few years in spite of problems with her eyes she took art classes and loved it – she did well too. She loved clothes and jewellry and shoes and had a pretty large collection of all three. I have some bits of jewellry and some shoes she passed to me.

In her youth my grandma sang with a big band, she also served in the second world war in the signals if I remember correctly. She loved the films and recordings of Deanna Durbin and introduced me to some of them when I was much younger.

As many reading this will know I love to sing. My grandma encouraged me in this and paid for singing lessons for me when I was younger. One of the last things I was able to do for her was sing something to her over the phone. I picked “On Wings of Song”. The words I learnt seem to be a bit differnt to those I can find online.

On Wings of Song I’ll bear thee
Enchanted realms to see
Come oh my love prepare thee
In dreamland to wander with me
A garden I know of Roses
By moonlight silver’d o’er
Upon that lake reposes
A balmy lotus flower
Upon that lake reposes
A balmy lotus flower.

The bending violets whisper
Their fragrant secrets there
Waiting for thee their sister
Still closed are their blossoms rare
With wistful glances are peering
The bright eyed slender gazelle
The rushing tide is nearing
Upon the breeze it swells
The rushing tide is nearing
Upon the breeze it swells

And there we will sit and rest us
Under the palm trees shade
And dream that love has blessed us
And joy will never fade
And joy will never fade
Never fade.

For Pauline Elizabeth Potter 1925 – 2009.

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