Mum knew the EFG for about 18 months before they were separated. They would have had such good times together as the EFG grew up, and she would have loved the YFG as well. I remember her pushing the pram around Cupar, sneaking little star shaped chocolate to the EFG (can't remember what they are called!?) when she thought I wasn't looking - I think I have made up for all the chocolate they would have shared, though, so the EFG hasn't missed out on that!
The girls do miss out on grandparents, in a way. My dad is lovely to them, very proud of them, interested in all they do and want to achieve, and supports their ambitions, but there is only the one of him, and the other three grandparents have all passed on. He is 83 this year, and slowing down. The girls do their best to keep him up to date with the technology, though, and he is very pleased when they put his photos on DVDs and pop them in the tv for him to share with us.
Funny how the pregnancy was never mentioned because I was 400 miles away, on the end of the phone, and it could be avoided, and I was an unmarried mother, so not quite respectable. But once the EFG was born, named after my own grandmother, the outpouring of love began, and it never stopped. The EFG and her Granny spent the second week of February together in Cupar that year, although my dad had offered to take Mum to Malta, and she said, "No, let's go and see (the EFG) again" so they came. Mum died just a few days after they returned home.
It does me good to remember each year, remember the love, remember the sharing and the history we had. The good times as well as the rough times which we got through. Our faith. Our love. Her generosity and hospitality. Her kindness as well as her sharp tongue at times. Her thriftiness, her love for us as children, and her support for us as adults. Her dedication to her big brother and her mother. Contentment. Hard work. Afternoon naps. Sewing dresses for our dolls in secret for Christmas presents - fantastic outfits made in velvet. Three of us in matching summer dresses one year.
I hope I am doing enough to make her proud still. Not what she hoped for me, nor what she had as ambitions for me, but perhaps a different path to a similar achievement one day.