Well, we buried Nanny Farm this week. The boys wanted to come so we let them, we all had a white rose each to lay on the coffin. I read a short poem that I was up until midnight the night before writing. I also went to the chapel of rest last week to see her. I'm glad I didn't let the boys go as she was quite blue. I think it would've scared them. I held her hand for a while, and placed a card from the boys and some photos in with her. She always had the most beautiful hands. Always elegant and soft, with perfect almond shaped nails. I'd always been jealous of them. Her hands were still as soft as always, just cold. Clearing the flat has been the hardest. It holds all the memories of my childhood, and now someone else will be living there.
We've all been pretty subdued this week. I don't really feel like she's gone. Even though I've seen where she died, seen her body in the coffin, in my head she's still sat in that chair in Romford watching Eastenders on TV. I think I'm in denial to be honest, it's going to hit me like a ton of bricks at some point.
Me doing Grandad's garden and Nan overseeing that I do a good job! I must be 16 in this picture as I've got my horseriding gear on.
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