I tried to reblog the above link from a friend of mine about earliest memories of death, but the technological challenge defeated me. But it reminded me that the first time anyone died that I was old enough to know about came very early in my life when my paternal grandmother died. My maternal grandmother also died when I was very young but I think I was even younger and I don’t recall it. She also lived further away and I had much less contact with her.
My memories of Annie Lilly Bradley are very fond ones and among the earliest of my whole life. I can recall lying on their settee and being falling to sleep as she watched over me and sang a lullaby – I couldn’t have been more then two-years-old. My only other real mental image is of her pottering in from the kitchen with a jar of home-made jam for tea, made from the fruit my grandad grew in his garden.
I can also remember being taken by my dad to visit my grandad just after Annie died, and not really taking in what it was all about but seeing the tears in his eyes. They had been together since for about 60 years.
Whenever I see photographs of her I get the feeling that she is still watching over me like that day on the settee…