My granny died this week. I was enjoying a week with my Aunt, her daughter, in our home in Copenhagen when my mother called to break the news. Although not entirely unexpected, it wasn't expected at that moment. We started to check into flying home to Dublin for the funeral on Saturday.
Flights were costing almost €2000 for the children and I to fly home together, as I couldn't leave them with my husband who couldn't take time off work.
I was really undecided about whether I was happy with staying in Copenhagen and missing the funeral, but I knew that Granny wouldn't have been in favour of spending that amount of money for the trip, especially since I would be home two weeks later and would get to see my family then.
However, there was a late flight I could take on Friday night and return on Sunday evening which would allow me to travel alone, which I decided to do.
My Granny's sister-in-law had travelled from her home in New York with her daughters to be in Dublin and my cousin had to take three flights to make it back from holiday in Hawaii, so it was only right that I make it from Copenhagen.
On the flight over, I wrote a little about my granny in order that I could speak about her at the mass. Although emotional, I was delighted I had done it, so others could have the opportunity to hear a little more about her life before she was ill....
Annie Bagnell, a
tribute.
Being the daughter of Annie’s daughter, Sheila, I lived very
close to Annie and we saw her all the time when I was a child. I wanted to remember her as she had been,
before she had the fall, before I had children, when she was just my
Granny.
One of my strongest memories is of travelling to Cork with
my brother Paul by train when I was about 7 and Paul about 5, because she had
won a weekend away in the Imperial Hotel.
We had to move seats on the train because some teenagers were smoking
and Granny hated that. I can still
remember being embarrassed when the group giggled at her reaction. I don’t remember much about what we did on
the trip, but we insisted on eating scrambled egg on toast for breakfast when
we came home, because that’s what they served in the hotel. She could have taken anyone on that trip, but
she chose to spend it with us, even though we were fairly young and probably
took quite a bit of looking after.
I remember Saturday afternoons spent in her kitchen watching
sports with Kitty and Liam in a smoke filled kitchen. My protests as a small child breathing
second-hand smoke fell on deaf ears.
Granny would do anything to keep the peace – she’d correct teenagers for
smoking, but her own children poisoning her grandchildren was ok!
I remember eating Sunday dinner there at 1pm where the wine
was either blue or black.
We’d stay until after Glenroe, which signalled the end of a
weekend for every young person of that time, when we’d be changed into PJs and
driven home ready for the week ahead.
I would spend many weekends there, sleeping over with her,
too afraid to sleep alone in the attic so I’d put up with her terrible snoring
to stay on a camp bed in her room.
We would get mass in the Oratory on a Saturday evening as
Gaeilge - Granny knew all the songs and prayers - and we’d walk back for a cup
of tea and biscuits with Mrs Mac in Granny’s kitchen.
She made great scones, but nothing could beat her Teabrack,
sliced and buttered with a hot cup of tea.
She would sell her baking in the staff canteen in Boyers and people
still remark on how good it was.
The Christmas season began with puddings being mixed in the
yellow baby bath in October and she spent every Christmas day in my family home
with either Jim or Hannah or Kitty in attendance, depending on who was living
with her or holidaying with her at the time.
We joked about how she was forever grumbling about being
better off dead, but she had more energy than most of us could have dreamed
about. She would take the bus into the
city centre to get mass in the Pro Cathedral and meet someone for coffee in
Boyers.
If anyone had any shopping to be done in Arnotts, she would
collect it for us to get 20% off with her staff card.
And she loved her holidays to New York to visit Aunt Kitty
and the extended family. She was never happier
than when Kitty travelled over here to stay for a month in Artane with her
between mine and Conor’s weddings in spring 2005.
She was always there, in the beautiful whitewashed house on
Kilmore road, and I would visit her when I stayed with my friend in Artane,
walking from one house to the other for a cup of tea and cheese on toast with
herself and Mrs Mac.
Later, while I studied at DCU I would take the bus down to
have lunch with her and when I was on maternity leave with my daughter Rachel,
we’d often call in passing from Marino to Donaghmede.
She loved Rachel, who was her first Great-Grandchild and got
the chance to be extra spoiled before the others came along.
Rachel has always loved dogs and was forever trying to
smuggle Granny’s soft toy dog out of the house at every chance.
Granny appeared at Rachel’s 3rd or 4th
birthday party with a big parcel, which she was very anxious that Rachel
open. Rachel was tearing through
presents, throwing paper aside and hardly paying attention to what was inside
so I wanted her to open Granny’s present later, with no distractions. I knew Granny wanted to see the reaction when
Rachel opened it and I didn’t want her to be disappointed in case Rachel threw
it aside.
We waited until the end of the party when only my parents
and Granny were left. We were delighted
when Rachel eventually ripped the paper off and was ecstatic with a big cuddly
dog, which still sleeps on her bed in Copenhagen, where we have since moved.
Granny then recounted the story of how she had chosen it in
the toy shop and placed it strategically into the bag with the head looking
out, laughing uproariously has she told us about how all the people on the bus
journey home could see it sticking out and shared a laugh with Granny about it.
Since Granny has been ill, Rachel has had a chance to return
some of that caring she received. Rachel
was great at making sure Granny was comfortable and had everything that she
needed, showing her the framed pictures of the family and talking to her about
the people in the pictures.
I had the privilege of interviewing Granny for a radio
project I wanted to make, about the strong women I have in my life. I spoke with her in 2008 and again in 2011,
after she’d had her fall.
She spoke about her childhood and how happy she had been
with her parents and three brothers, Michael, Sean and Tom. She loved her parents, especially her father,
who she said ‘ruined her’. She laughed
as she said that she got watches and bikes before any of the children around,
including her own brothers.
She told me about meeting Willie, her future husband, while
out cycling in Tallaght with a friend.
He was serving in the Irish Air Corps in Baldonnell and was out walking
with some others from the Aerodrome. She
remembered how Willie never came to the house at first and she would watch for
him from the side window when he was due to meet her. She needn’t have worried, however, because when
her parents met him, they “idolised him”.
She also talked about how her baby brother Tom, who would have been
about 2 at the time, would wait for him at the gate because he’d bring him
sweets.
Although life was tough, she was entirely positive about all
of her experiences, feeling lucky that both her father and her husband had
constant jobs, meaning life wasn’t as tough as it could be. It was from her father, who planted
vegetables in almost all of their land in Tallaght, that she got her great love
of gardening.
She had a great sense of humour and during our interviews, she
also told an anecdote about when she had Jim and Sheila living in Limerick. People loved Jim’s blonde curls, she said, and
one woman in particular gushed over him when she’d bring him walking. However, on one particular day Granny brought
a newborn Sheila in Jim’s place and she laughed when she recounted the woman’s disgust
as she told her that that baby wasn’t as nice as the other child!
I never knew Granny to be bitter about being widowed at 49,
which is testament to her great strength - I can’t possibly imagine sharing my
birthday and wedding anniversary with the anniversary of my husband’s
funeral.
I’ll leave you with one lasting piece of advice she gave
during her interviews. She thought it
extremely important that young couples spend as much time as possible enjoying
each other’s company, as you never know what may happen. Having received the news of her death on Wednesday,
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go ahead with the date night I’d planned with my
own husband Will, as my Aunt Hannah was over and had offered to babysit. However, it was a fitting tribute that we
took her advice and spent our first night out together in three months on the
night of her death. She is sorely missed
but we can take solace in the fact that she is spending lots of quality time
with her husband now.