My beloved Nonno

Today marks the first anniversary since the passing of my beloved Nonno. I've already shed a few tears and plan to visit his resting place today, where I'm sure more will follow.

Nonno was my last surviving grandparent and I ensured that I spent quality time with him each week. We would play a traditional Italian card game called 'Scopa', which we turned into a championship tournament (he won 30 games to my 20). I savoured each moment.

When Nonno was admitted into hospital for the last time, I had a knowing that this would be 'it'. I was with him for his last conscious moments and earlier that morning, I was able to show him photos of my parent's 40th wedding anniversary we'd celebrated two days before.

We had embarked on a minibus trip down memory lane and visited all the places that were significant to them and their lives. Their family home where each of them lived as children, the church they were married in, the town hall that hosted the reception and their first home as husband and wife. It was a great day, that produced great happy photos.

Nonno's smile was so big. Seeing us in front of these places was as much a reflection for him as it was for my parents. I couldn't help thinking what it meant to him to see his one and only surviving child (my Dad) with children and grandchildren standing in front of all the places that were of great significance in his life. Nonno was happy (and very grateful) that we shared the photos with him.

Soon after the slideshow, Nonno's eyes closed and he remained unconscious for most of the day. He miraculously opened them briefly for but a few seconds when the rest of the family joined us. He even managed a smile as he focused his gaze on his great grandchildren.

It was getting late and we were making plans about what to do overnight. I was reluctant to have my Nonno be alone so I volunteered spending the night in his expansive hospital suite. We were discussing our plans as we waited for the hospital staff to bring in something to make me more comfortable, like a blanket. All the while, I was holding his hands.

Then something unusual happened.

Nonno opened his eyes and looked as though he was attempting to raise his head and shoulders off his pillow. Within a millisecond of this happening, I had the strong feeling that this was to be his last breath. I kissed and hugged him with all my heart and said "Bon viaggio Nonno, I love you, salut' a Mamina"... and that was it. He departed.

After the fact, I reflected on those last moments. What it must have felt like for him to have left this life in such a way. I think it would have been lovely. I am really grateful that I went with my feelings and prohibited my head to talk me out of it. I am often so fearful of doing something wrong and making mistakes that I regularly talk myself out of doing things that are instinctual (then later finding out that it would have been the better option).

I'm signing off now, it's time to visit Nonno.

Until tomorrow, allow your instincts to lead you despite your head thinking otherwise.

Grace xx

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The fabric of life

Why do we celebrate birthdays and anniversaries every year?

Granted, there are some cultures that don't celebrate them, however I can only speak for myself and on behalf of those like me.

What is it that we are really celebrating?

As years go by, I care less for gifts and more about those I choose to share these celebratory times with.

To me, these annual celebrations are a cause for reflection. It's like stopping midway trekking to look back and see how far you've come. It's not about reversing or dwelling in the past, a few pensive moments are quite enough.

I love to create experiences where we can (justifiably) put our world on pause and fully indulge in the present for such occasions. By creating special moments, we honour the historical happenings of our lives.

We are no less important than those we dedicate a minute's silence to.
Remember that.

We're often reminded to stop and smell the roses - but in reality, how many times do we do that? Our annually recurring celebrations are wonderful opportunities to pencil in some time for ourselves and those we love. If we can't stop to do that, then we really are walking past the most fragrant rose garden without taking so much as a sniff.

Since I started purposefully creating special moments in honour of celebrations, I have noticed that with each passing year the memories become cumulative.

It's like decorating a piece of fabric with beaded embroidery. Each day is a stitch and on the 365th needle, a new sparkly bead is added. While each bead is beautiful in its own right, it's their clustering that make them really spectacular. What's lovely is that they're all joined by a common thread - and that is the fabric of our lives.

Until tomorrow, may you continue to decorate your fabric and infuse it with the sweet perfume of roses.

Grace xx