Violet
We lost our gran to breast cancer when
I was only 12 and I was beginning to get to know her.
I remember little things like the personal tape cassette
player she gave me one Christmas and it was the best present ever.
Every Easter she made homemade eggs instead of giving
shop-bought ones. She would bring them round in a big basket with
something she had made like a T-shirt with a little chick on it.
My grandad made me a big doll's house and my gran filled it with
furniture and a family. I still have mum, dad and baby!!!
The smell of her house was brilliant. She was always baking cakes
and it was worth putting a horrible itchy dress on to go to Sunday school,
because we always knew that we would have tea and cakes afterwards,
in her living room. I'll never forget that smell.
I remember going
to the hospital the day she died and giving her a drawing of a bird
I had done, with 'get well soon' on it. She held it upside down
and said it was beautiful. I wanted to tell her it was upside down,
but I knew that she was on medicine for her pain. I really hope she
saw it.
Her name was Violet and I called my house after her and
I always have a pot of Violets at my front door.
My older sisters,
with a wee help from my young talent at the time,
wrote the poem below.
Violet
Of all the sounds that nature's bells may ring,
Of all the sweet sounds that the little birds may sing,
Of all the flowers that the early year may bring,
There is none more beautiful than a Violet in the Spring.
There's beauty in the misty dawn, when morning has begun,
There's beauty in the web of life, which centuries have spun,
There's beauty in the flowers and buds which grow on earth as one,
And yet there's none so beautiful as a Violet in the sun.
When the shade of Violet comes, the light on earth departs,
When she finds her chosen place, her new life then will start,
And when she is with you, Oh Lord, the place where thou most art,
We will still hold dearly, Violet in our hearts.
To Gran, with love from Elaine, Adrienne and Vivienne.
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