Tonight my grandmother passed away. She was 80. Poor Mamma. I'd like to remember her infinite grace, wit and courage. A passionate gardener, she lived in Grace Kelly-esque shirt-maker dresses and she smoked Longbeaches by the packet. When she met my grandfather she instantly fell in love with this "mere farmer" and in a grand fit of rebellion married him against her parents wishes. On after school visits I picked strawberries in her garden, broke two sewing machines, and secretly sipped from her can of Fosters beer. She had a mind a sharp as a tack, even to the end I would find myself wading through her encyclopedias, looking up topics from Svengali to Patrick White. When I was young she would make sponge cake and sing "Light My Fire", "Sylvia's Mother" or other long forgotten tunes that were caught in her mind. I had no idea who the Doors or Dr. Hook were. A closet feminist, and pillar of strength, she will be remembered and missed. Jessica and I head back to Rockhampton tomorrow to say our goodbyes.
