The most influential and important person of my formative years, the one person I would turn to when I needed a hug, or asked advice, or fills the most of my memories was my Nan. The love I had (and still have) for her was overwhelming. She was the one that started my interest in all things crafty/stitched. We would spend Saturday afternoons in front of the open fire sewing, picking out buttons from her (and now my) button tin, trying to teach me how to knit (I managed a couple of pairs of mittens with holes in but never got any better than that).
Her whole life was a struggle, after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in her 20s she managed to keep it secret until my mum was 40 and still lived much later than was expected of her. In fact I can't count the times I had a phone call from my mum telling me she was most likely close to the end and I should rush down to Suffolk to say goodbye. Almost every time I did she was sat up in bed having a cup of tea by the time I got there. So the real end came as an unbelievable shock a couple of weeks ago and I still don't really believe it.
People say you need to take time and let the grief do as it will. I'm trying. In all honesty I'm not doing too well, I feel a bit like I'm flapping my wings and trying to fly but never reaching great heights. A bit like a chicken with clipped wings.
So this weekend I am going to the Festival of Quilts with a few friends and I might drink too much beer and I might have a cry if one of them asks me if I'm ok in a certain tone of voice. I will most certainly have an excellent laugh and I think my Nan will be quite happy to see that she did a pretty alright job in making me into what I am today. Because I do owe so much to her and I can't thank her enough for that.