This is not your typical love story

It’s my granny’s birthday today. She is my best friend. Was my best friend.

It’s coming up to a year since she passed away (she managed to leave us just before covid hit the UK in the worst possible way) and I’m struggling. She was my biggest love, and the lady who always made the best Sunday lunch and the most fantastic memories.

Her laugh would always fill a room, no matter how big or small; her presence was undeniable. She was the typical granny in the sense that I would never leave her house unfed, and she would always pass me some money with a ‘don’t tell anybody else about this’ kind of arrangement. I was the tall to her small - the top shelves were my area and the bottom shelves hers.

I miss the standard routine we had. I’d ask if she had any biscuits (which she always had packets and packets unopened) and she’d reply saying that there might be some. I’d top up the biscuit tin and bring it in to her with a cup of coffee (cream instead of milk if she was feeling extra fancy that day - and always 1 sugar). We’d share our stories - she once got stuck driving in a blizzard on the way to the cinema with her friends - and we’d watch Escape to the Country and imagine it was our life.

There’s so much love I have left for her, and so much more I want to give. But I can’t - she’s not here in body and I can’t hug and cry with her spirit.

I’m trying to be half of the woman she once was - I just hope that’s enough.

With all the love in the world, I’ll always be her little ray of sunshine.