My Grandmother - A tribute

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 3^rd or 4^th 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.