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"One of Them"Aug 01 '02 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line A tribute to a special lady.
Doris Freda Willows was born in a small town on the Nottinghamshire/Yorkshire border 92 and a half years ago. She married Bill Fleming late in life. He called her "Mum" and she called him "Dad". The neighbours called her Mrs Fleming. Her closest friends (and only her closest friends) called her Freda. I call her Grandma. The staff in the nursing home call her Doris, as if she wasn't confused enough already. She's always overwhelmed to see us. Her face lights up into a huge smile. One of her front teeth is missing. She lost it in a spirited battle with a pork chop several months ago. She doesn't remember this and she thinks an evil dentist stole it. She hates dentists. So any attempts to replace it would be futile, which is fine as we've all grown rather used to it. Including Grandma. "How are you today, Grandma?" I ask, after the kisses the hugs and a few tears from both parties. There's a lukewarm cup of tea and half a fairy cake next to her. And she's got a blob of icing on her chin. "Mustn't grumble" she says. "I'm 92 so I can't complain". So I tell her my news and I ask her about hers. She doesn't remember much but speaks loudly and enthusiastically about her new friends in the nursing home. She likes the male nurse but she thinks he's "one of them". He's standing right next to her. She leans over to whisper in my ear: "I bet you never thought you'd have a batty Grandma in a nursing home" I giggle and so does she. "Lovely view, though" I say, looking out to sea. Her hair hasn't been permed recently. It's whispy and white and combined with the pink of her jumper she looks like a lovely candyfloss. I wipe the icing from her chin. "Have you seen my mother?" She asks.  |
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