30 Dec A grandma’s legacy looms large over Kate’s family

The legacy of Kate King’s grandmother looms large over her family.

My grandma died this year. I always considered myself very lucky to have my maternal grandmother in my life for so long, and now she isn’t. I was there when she suffered heart failure, and after a fortnight in hospital, she was gone. With only immediate family at the funeral, it seemed unfair that this woman, who played such a big part in our lives, could be farewelled by so few. But those were her wishes. In death, as in life, she sought no conspicuous display.

Grandma was a vivid figure, not only in her grandchildren’s lives, but in her great-grandchildren’s. My young daughters loved visiting her and showing off. I used to wonder why they were so eager to see her, considering there was nothing particularly entertaining at the nursing home, and Grandma didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

The reason was that even with mild dementia she could make you feel important and interesting. A big smile and open arms would greet us as soon as we came into focus, while her watery eyes remained fixed on our faces for the duration of the visit.

After listening to the eulogies delivered by my mother and aunt, it hit me that the legacy she left behind as a wife, mother and grandmother was far more substantial than ticking off a list of corporate-career highlights. It was never her intention to change the world; she lived life for her family – she got on with it. I don’t know if she had any personal dreams to chase. It always seemed such a foolish thing to ask someone so competent and happy, and who experienced early motherhood at a time of hardship and loss at the end of the Second World War.

As a young wife, she farewelled her bomber-pilot husband to the skies of Europe. She received two telegrams; the first told her her husband’s plane had been shot down with his condition unknown, and the latter that he had been captured by the Germans. He returned a physically and emotionally malnourished prisoner of war who was warned there would be no chance of the couple conceiving a child.

Nine months later, along came my mother, and a year later a sibling.

Even though Pop’s heroic story of jumping from a burning plane has always attracted attention and admiration, and rightly so, Grandma was the anchor who provided a loving home environment in which her children fl ourished. Living in a regional town, with a modest single income, the family of four never went without, but there was little left over for fancy items or trips away.

In the late 1970s, my father was invited to play on a cricket tour to South Africa, and Grandma urged my mother to accompany him, offering to mind the kids. It was an opportunity that would open up the world for her daughter and change her life. At 57 years of age, Grandma happily took charge of a two year old and a four year old.

I can’t remember a family event Grandma didn’t attend. At 81 years of age she flew to Scotland for my wedding. But she wasn’t all about family duty – she was fun and I loved her company in adolescence and well into adulthood. It was nothing short of wonderful to be at the receiving end of her natural delight and unwavering support. Grandma was a ‘doer’. She had a purpose, and she adored the hand she was dealt.