August 16th 1978 was, I think, the day that changed my life forever, moreso than any other. It was the day that my granpop died. It's etched on my mind forever, in all its awfulness.
It started like any other, except that I'd had a horrible evening and night, with severe pains in my chest, pressure, like severe indigestion but worse, which ended abruptly sometime around 1.30am. One minute in severe pain, nauseated by it, and then totally free of any pain or nausea the next.
I was up and starting my day, kids awake, my boyfriend at the time had gone to sign on at the dole for his unemployment, when my phone rang. It was my mum.
She sounded very odd.
"Where's your phone?" She asked.
"In my hand."
"No where is your phone situated?"
I asked if she was ok.
"On the phone table at the bottom of the stairs."
"Sit on the stairs," she said.
"Mum, are you alright?" I asked.
"Are you sitting down?"
"Yes I'm sat on the stairs."
At that she delivered the news.
"Your granpop's dead. he died this morning."
I heard no more, I screamed, threw the phone against the wall and still screaming, ran up the stairs onto my bed and sobbed hysterically.
My friend Anne's boyfriend came up, sometime later, to borrow some sugar. As soon as he came in my back door, he could hear me and came rushing upstairs to my bedroom to see what was the matter. I was incoherent. He stayed with me until my boyfriend got back. I was a mess.
My mum showed up a couple of hours later with a couple of my siblings in tow, and told me to get myself and my kids sorted as we were going to my nan's.
There were a load of relatives already there, some I knew, some I'd never seen before in my life. My nan just looked totally dazed and out of it. I gave her a hug, I didn't know what else to do.
My mum started doing stuff in the kitchen, making fresh pots of tea for everyone and plates of biscuits, I just stayed near my nan. I couldn't imagine how she was feeling. She'd been married to my granpop for 42 years and now he was gone.
Then the squabbles started, among those whose faces I didn't recognise.
"Well, Ed always said when he was gone, I'd get this," and "Ted said this was mine when he died".
I got so mad and screamed at them all,
"Leave my nanny alone! She's just lost her husband and you're like a flock of bloody vultures!"
My mum sternly said,
"Rosemary, kitchen". I'd never cursed in front of her before.
"They need to leave her alone!" I cried as she led me into the scullery.
A little while later, my granpop's brother, Uncle Bill was going to take my mum to see my granpop's body. My nan asked if I wanted to go, and I said no but she said "you always were his favourite grandchild, it's the last time you'll be able to see him" and - being accepted as a last mark of respect - I allowed myself to be persuaded.
At that time, my ex-husband was my mum's driver.
We piled into the car and followed Uncle Bill to the funeral home.
It was so nice and calm inside. White marble walls with alcoves, vases of flowers in them. Soft music was playing. I didn't want to do this, but I was telling myself, "you're 22, just grit your teeth and deal with it. If you want to cry, you can do it when you get out".
We were led through a set of double doors, and then through another, the hallway looking the same as the entrance, white marble and alcoves. They opened the door to my granpop's room, and I could hear somebody screaming and, in my head, I was thinking "oh they shouldn't be doing that in here" and the next minute, my ex-husband is picking me up off the floor with my mum saying, "get her up, get her out of here!"
Outside, all I remember is sobbing, "please don't tell my nanny I did this" over and over. I didn't want to upset her even more.
Even 42 years later, that day is etched in my memory.
My granpop (centre) as a young man with friends before going to India
My granpop in the hills around Pune, India, he was in the Royal Signals
My granpop in the workshop in Pune, India
Me and my granpop on one of our holidays touring Devon and Cornwall
