GRANNY

BY JOANNEBARBARELLA

She told me years ago that she had a secret and she was going to tell only me. I don’t know what I was expecting……maybe a map showing where to find the buried treasure…….maybe a glass slipper. She always used to tell me outrageous stories, which I believed when I was little. I always remembered the one about her being so poor as a child that she had to walk barefoot through the snow for two miles to get to school because her parents couldn't afford to buy her shoes. I'm going to tell my own kids that one.

I only remember her as my granny, ever since I was very little, and I loved her. She’s gone now so I can’t go back and ask her although she had already told me she had left me a book which I wouldn’t get until I was eighteen. I wish she was still here so we could read it together. Well, today is my eighteenth birthday and who can wait to open a secret document, a kind of diary?

She made me swear that I wouldn’t tell anyone else until after she died because she didn’t want anybody hurt and I was the only one she felt she could trust. We were always very close.

The book came in one of those padded envelopes and was handed to me by her solicitor on my birthday. When I took it out it was just a plain book with nothing on the black cover to make it special.

Inside on the first page there was a message to me.

“My Darling Jane,

If you are reading this then you are 18 and I’m sure you are a beautiful young lady. I am writing this at the age of 73 and you are 11 years old as I write. It would be lovely if we could be reading this together, although I’m not sure if I would be brave enough to do that even after all these years,

I love you my dear,

Nana Suzie “

I turned the page and began reading.

“It is now over 55 years since I became who I am today. I had met the woman who you knew as Auntie Lucy some months before and the main reason I am writing this memoir is to make sure that Lucy is remembered by someone other than me for who she really was.

You will remember that she died a couple of months ago. The combination of breast and liver cancer was something that would have killed her at any age but a woman of 81 had no chance at all. I could say it broke my heart but that would not describe the desolation I felt…and still feel. She was the light of my life….apart from you my little one, who will soon have to carry the torch for both of us.

The last few years of her life were very much a trial for the two of us. Cancer is a dreadful disease, not only for the one who suffers it but also for those who have to look after the victim. In fact, being a prime carer is worse in a way. To watch your dearest love wither away to a shell of her former self is a torture in itself. Actually she had little real pain until the last day of her life, but she shrivelled and shrank before my eyes, becoming weaker and frailer, skin you could almost see through and stretched over an ever more visible skeleton. Sure, she endured chemotherapy and radiation treatment, which are awful and debilitating in themselves, but we both knew it wouldn’t save her….could only prolong her life by some months…. and she finally decided enough was enough and she would rather try to enjoy her remaining months rather than drag herself through them exhausted and drained by the treatments.

That’s when she decided she would like to go on a cruise, so I organised the best cabin I could get with a balcony on the cruise line recommended as the height of luxury. You’ll remember the pictures we sent back from New Zealand, Tahiti, Moorea, Bora Bora, Honolulu and other places. She did enjoy it, although the trip exhausted her and by the time it was over I was wondering if I would get her home alive. Her mind was going a bit by then too and conversations could be a little repetitive. Still, we got her home and she lasted another six weeks, so we made it just in time and it made her final days much pleasanter than having more useless treatments.

Still, I’m telling you the story from the wrong end.

I was 17 when we met and although it seemed impossible I fell head-over-heels in love with her. She was 25 at that time and the most beautiful girl I ever saw. You obviously won’t remember just how lovely she was. Age catches up with us all and her illness really took its toll in her final years. I have enclosed some photos of both of us with this account to give you an idea of her beauty and even of my younger self. Seen from my present viewpoint I looked pretty good too, although I say so myself.

I’ll cut to the chase because I don’t want to bore you. Incredibly, she liked me too, gauche insecure child that I was, and one thing led to another and I ended up moving in with her to take care of the ordinary things in her life while she pursued her career. She was never very good with domesticity.

I think on her part “like” turned to love in the next few months and she was instrumental in curing all my insecurities and helping me to become the person you know, or, maybe by the time you read this…..knew.

There were reasons why we could only live together. Society was different then but we were accepted in a way. Our sin was not frowned upon as much as those of others, though the prejudice lingers on even today. Two women living together will always result in sniggers and sly remarks behind the back.

We had a happy life together, a few ups-and-downs, but the spats were few and far between and we always made up and the love never stopped. Your father was born about five years into our relationship, and together we raised him, Lucy and me. I was the one he called Mum because Lucy was our breadwinner. Although she didn’t actually need to, she loved working in the theatre, while I stayed home and looked after all the domestic side of things, including the education of our little boy. I don’t mean he didn’t go to school but I tried to instil the values by which we wanted him to live. I think we succeeded and we were both proud of him.

Of course he asked questions about his father, who we didn’t really want to discuss, so we told him that the man had gone away and wasn’t coming back, which was true in its way.

So life went on and your Dad grew up and eventually married your mother. I can now admit that I had mixed feelings about her. She can be a lovely woman and I know you love her dearly, but there are times when she can be a real cow. I suppose you could also call my reservations "mother-in-law syndrome", so please don’t tell her I said so. I know she made the occasional snide remark about me and Lucy, but that’s all in the past and she was wonderful when Lucy passed away and I was a basket-case for a time. Your cuddles and hugs helped me get through that too.

Anyway, then you arrived on the scene and I don’t think I have to tell you that both of us old ladies loved you to bits. We tried to make sure that you would grow up to be the beautiful, kind-hearted and wonderful human being that I am sure you have become. Find yourself a nice young man (or girl for that matter) and have a happy life. Don’t be afraid to have a professional life either. I think you would make a great doctor, but whatever you fancy, you go chase it, girl. The world is your oyster.

Now for the secret.

Or maybe it’s two secrets, one more devastating than the other.

I am not your grandmother. Your “Auntie” Lucy was your true grandmother. She loved both your father and you just as much as I did, but deferred to me in a way because I was the one who changed nappies, bathed and comforted, dressed and nurtured both your Dad and you (when I got the chance). She didn’t mind. She got her share of hugs and kisses and the satisfaction of knowing that her child and grandchild loved her as well as me. She was a very unselfish woman….part of the reason I loved her so much.

I hope you can deal with the other secret. I think you can.

I am your grandfather….yes, I am your Dad’s father. I know it’s only a technicality now, but I was born male. I didn’t want to be but that was the hand that I was dealt. I always knew I was a woman inside, but it took Lucy to release me from that burden. Still, before my physical form was forever changed, together we produced your father. I wish I could have been the one to have carried him within my body, but of course that was not possible.

Then I fulfilled my destiny, had the necessary operations and became the woman that you knew as your Granny. I have never looked back and never regretted my wonderful life,

I love you darling Jane,

Forgive me,

Nana Suzie.

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Dear Jane,

I am adding a postscript here. We have just had your 17th birthday and you have fulfilled all my expectations. I have lived long enough to see you become a beautiful young woman and human being.

However it is unlikely that I will be celebrating your next birthday as I have been diagnosed with a chronic heart condition. Don't feel sorry for me; my death will probably be quick and it won't be a bad way to go. I am content and just want to say that I love you one more time before the inevitable.

I have been so proud to be your Nana and please remember your Auntie Lucy and me with love,

Nana Suzie

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Of course I had a good cry.....who wouldn't? They were both so special.

The pictures were at the back of the book as promised, although at first I couldn't look at them through my tears.

I had to sit and absorb all this. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. So my “Auntie” was my Grandmother and my “Grandmother” was………….???

For a while I just sat and then I dried my eyes and looked at the photos that she had included with her little memoir. Both of them were beautiful as girls and even into late middle age until the cancer had claimed Lucy. But there was a series of pictures in which a rather forlorn looking young boy gradually transformed into a radiant young woman. I could see she was my Granny. It didn’t matter. She will always be my Nana. The boy was just a ghost.