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Nancy and Me Part one

Updated: May 3, 2021

Granny seemed old to me; I was six;

She was fifty, and she dyed her hair.

My mind might be playing tricks, but

she looked like Elizabeth Taylor.


She had no Richard Burton to woo her; she

was a widow at her only daughter’s wedding,

sitting quietly in the corner on her own,

and I ran over to her because for me, she was everything


Yet, everything doesn’t quite describe this woman,

who loved me always, even when I disappointed her.

She introduced me to so much-Kelvingrove museum

will always be special for me; she took me there


She was my shelter in difficult times; I was a rebel,

victim of circumstance and bad choices.

She never judged, always loved-and prayed for me;

I was unaware of the three years of broken sleep.


She told my friend once it was over, without

a word of annoyance or regret-she kept

me covered with her prayers, there’s no doubt;

waiting patiently till I eventually saw sense.


Part two

Part two


Two broken vacuum cleaners later, her memory failed;

she carried a photo of me at fifteen, saying, you’re getting so big.

She looked over her shoulder, whispering, and I asked her

what was wrong-she told me nobody.


Dementia happened; she looked sad, cos she knew

her marbles were rolling down the drain.

She became angry, but not with me;

yes, she would smile as I dried her hair.


22nd December, a child is born-a girl;

the phone rings on boxing day-I’m summoned.

On her death bed she lies, surrounded by the women

as the men play cards in another room.


She looks at me and asks about the baby;

I promise that she’ll see her tomorrow.

As I leave, she pipes up and reminds me,

clear as a bell, ‘Don’t forget now.’ I smiled.


As she held my daughter, she looked content, happy;

leaving, I looked back. Her eyes were glazed.

4th January 2000-4am-that dreaded call;

She was no more, only her glove remained.




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