Saturday 14th February 1914- Wednesday 24 June 2009

It's a day I knew would arrive and I wondered how it would affect me. The last of my grandparents, my father's mother, has passed away at the age of 95. It's an impressive age to reach and I am always in awe of the kind of life she must have lived and the things she would have witnessed. To be born 95 years ago...1914 seems so incredibly long ago. What an amazing transformation of the world to live through.

I remember her sense of glamour - she was always so well groomed and fashionable. Never having been a fashionista myself, I smiled at the fact that my grandmother was always, undoubtedly, more 'hip' and 'with it' than myself.

I suppose I can credit her mostly for instilling the love of travel within me. Christmas holidays were usually to somewhere exotic (wherever a casino and entertainment might be) and highlights of my youth were going to Mauritius... a FEW times! I usually shared the accommodation with Gran and can't remember there being any issues - we got along just fine. I am ashamed to admit to sometimes nudging her with my foot (if we were sharing a bed) if she was snoring a little bit, in the hope that I could quickly fall asleep before she started up again. Or feigning restless sleep to achieve the same effect. It sometimes worked...

When I was 16 I joined a group of girls on an overseas trip to Greece, Italy, France and Britain thanks to the generosity of my Granny Susie, who thought it a good idea. I don't remember how I managed to wangle that, but I do know I am extremely grateful. It really opened my eyes to the world and inspired me to go traveling again one day by myself. I set myself that goal. And boy, did I achieve that!

Of course, now I am living in New Zealand, married to a New Zealander, all because of my travels, and I can't be there for her service.

I saw her briefly in April this year and I realised that it might be the last. I prefer to remember her younger - it's easy to see her laughing in my mind. I can see her smile. I can see her hands. I mostly see her in my minds eye in one of her colourful chairs trying to do the crossword puzzle. Or playing the piano. It's funny how these little images pop up now.

She once sent me on a secret mission to find someone in England. I had the barest of information - a name and a place where that person once worked. What a great challenge! So many questions I wanted to ask about this person, but somehow I didn't. I respected the fact that she'd trusted me with the task, and amazingly, after months, I managed to find the long lost friend and deliver a message. I passed on her contact details but to this day have no idea of whether any contact was made. I mean, a message was relayed by me, but whether they personally spoke again, who knows? But at least I was able to achieve my mission.

I want to learn that secret language she and my father spoke - that coded talk. I want you to write it down for me Dad so I can figure out how to do it. I've always marveled at the speed and ease with which you both conversed in your code. I never cracked it. Most frustrating. Let me know please! It would come in extremely handy here since switching over to Afrikaans doesn't really help much or mean much to Ben, my husband.

I have some lovely little sepia photographs of Granny in her youth, which is a great reminder that she was so much more than I ever knew. A stunning lady.

Of course I'm sad that she has passed away, but also relieved that she has been set free. She was used to a better quality of life and now I hope she rests in peace.