Visit your Grandparents
I included this item on the list because I only ever got the chance to meet one of my grandparents, and thought it was important to revisit my parents memories of their parents and to visit their final resting places.
My mums parents are buried together on the island where she grew up. My grandad George was killed in an accident when my mum was just 11 years old. My granny, Molly, continued to bring up my mum, my uncle and my auntie alone. At the age of 60, she died of Alzheimers disease. Alzheimers was and continues to have no cure and remains a disease that is not fully understood. It is incredibly difficult for me to comprehend what it must have been like to loose both your parents at a young age, like my mum did.
The year my mum turned 60 she decided to remember my granny and help raise awareness of Alzheimers by completing three very physical challenges. The first was to run a half marathon, having never been a runner. The second was to complete The West Highland Way, a 96 mile (154KM) route from Milngavie to Fort William in Scotland. The third and final challenge was by far the biggest and most difficult. She decided to climb to Basecamp at Mount Everest. My older cousin decided to take on these challenges with her to offer support along the way. It took 14 days to climb up and down to and from basecamp of the highest mountain in the world. This included a flight in and out of the worlds most dangerous airport runway. My mum choose these challenges to highlight what you can do at 60 and the extent to which Alzheimers can effect any body.
My dads parents were laid to rest in different places. My gran Helena’s ashes were scattered at the War Memorial Gardens at the Dundee Crematorium. I never met her but it would seem that I carry a look of her, something that was often pointed out to me, especially when I was younger.
My Granddad Richard was buried in 2001, in Panpride, outside of Carnoustie, near Dundee. He was the only grandparent I met. I was only 9 when he died but I have memories of visiting him in his care-home. I can’t sing a line in tune but he used to love hear me sing and dance around his room and to tell him stories. His glasses used to fall down his nose. I remember him as being kind and often thought that he was with his thoughts in another place, forgetting time, lost in memories.
The following photos are of their final resting places…
maliewatson 