Mary Roberts, my grandmother, died on the 29th of November at the age of 92. It’s her funeral today in Speke in Liverpool, where she spent most of her life. I’d like to be there, but one of the disadvantages of moving to the other side of the world is that you can’t just fly home easily at times like these. There will be many other members of the Roberts clan up there though, most of her 21 descendants, and many more besides, so I hope it’s a fitting send-off.
Here she is (holding me) in the summer of 1980
We seemed to always be visiting her and staying in her house, and I still have endless memories of life there, the normal things like going to mass and to bingo, taking buses across town with her, all the way to Southport, and on one memorable occasion taking me and my sister on her OAPs coach trip to the Blackpool illuminations. Then there were many other Christmases, Easters, summers… I’m sure none of these sound particularly exciting, but somehow it all sort of just was. There are other people with better stories though, longer memories, and I’m sure that they’re sharing them right now. I wish I could have joined them.
Rest in peace, Grandma.