My rebel grandmother - Personal Essay

I remember waiting in that hospital corridor, walls as blank as my emotions, as all my family were weeping. I knew how I felt, I was broken, but the tears were not coming. That was the day I lost my Grandmother, who I absolutely adored, but also a very unusual relationship with.

She was a rather stern character, strict in her ways, who insisted on making me polish off of that last dreaded sprout on christmas day, while I struggled to get it down. There were two sides to my grandmother, or Nana as I called her, always seeking to rebel against one thing or another, always living the way she wanted to. I guess we got on so well, because I have always been the same. When I was 14 years old, as to my parents disgust, I had starting smoking. Something I quit for a while after that, when my Nana came for a visit. She was staying in my bedroom, so I was kicked out to bare the sofa for a night. The next day, my mother went in to tidy up, making sure the room was to her liking, when she got a very strong scent, of cigarettes. She immediately questioned me, as I was the clear and obvious suspect. Little did my mother know, Nana had been keeping quiet, for the last 50 odd years of my mums life, that she was a smoker. It’s a remarkable accomplishment, to get away with something like that for so long, but being young, and angry, I was set to prove I had not committed this crime. After an hour of looking, I ended up finding exactly what I had been searching for, Nana’s cigarettes. They were delicately hidden under a pile of her clothes, in which she concealed her secret. Though to my shock, my family could only laugh, as it was a typical Nana type of tale.

Years later, now grown up me, a lot wiser to the world, stumbled into the courtyard of my home, after a night of a rather insensible consumption of alcohol. Much to my shock, I found Nana there at 3 o’clock in the morning, sneaking out for a cheeky cigarette, with a very large glass of gin in her hand. This was the night, where I received the most important piece of advice, I have ever received. She said this, “The thing is with gin, if you have one glass you’ll end up crying, have two or three and you’ll be absolutely fine”. Very wise words Nana. It was these moments of genius, that made her an amazing character to be around. Shortly after, she moved down to Wales, to be closer to the family, and start a new life, though she brought a rebellion along with her.

I was venturing round my local seaside town, walking in the sun with a friend, where I saw this familiar figure, feet up on the pub bunch, with a cigarette in hand. It was Nana. She tended to do these escape routines quite often, and go off for a bit of Nana time, though she was not supposed to be caught. As she gave me a rather guilty lift back home, she reached into her car door, where she always supplied a full shop collection of sweeties, just for occasions such as this. She handed me a chocolate Eclair, and I put the wrapper firmly in my pocket, to hide the evidence.

As my time with her turned into a regular occurrence, with her now being a short drive away, I took to calling her Nanasaurus, which seems to be quite fitting, to her eccentric personality. She was always at the forefront of the family conversation at the dinner table, with the subject matter becoming stranger, every time.

I now keep that chocolate wrapper in my guitar case, wherever I travel to. It’s my way of remembering the incredible impact she had on my life, the lessons that she taught me, and the memories I will always cherish.