As I look back at the date of my last post and think of all that has happened since it feels like time has sped by so fast!
We're about to finish up the school year - just two weeks before my precious school babies move on to a new year level. I get to keep my Year 3's as new Year 4's. I have to send my Year 4's on to someone else. It makes me wonder what legacy I've left with those ones I have to hand over. I was putting together covers for their portfolios the other day and I was chuckling over some photos, taken back in May. They look so young and small and uncertain. Yet joyful and happy.
The other event that has me thinking about legacies is the death of my grandmother. We buried her this morning, in a graveside service. Just family from all the far flung places from whence they hail. My cousins from NSW. Dad's cousin from Hobart. Granny's brother and niece who have been, more recently, right here in Melbourne. I've talked a little, with my students, about my Granny's legacy. Her faith and its impact on the generations that have followed. The way she never made us feel we'd disappointed her, even when we had. This morning one of my cousins shared how excited they were when Granny would visit them, at their home near Sydney. How she would bring his favourite chocolate and lollies, and wait on him while he played on the beach. For hours. Without complaining at all. These are the stories of my grandmother. She visited her family no matter where they were. The six years we lived in PNG brought with it two visits from Granny. The second time was a three-month stint, and, bless her, she had to share a room with me. I mentioned to Dh this morning that I always felt a little inadequate whenever my NSW cousins would be close by. Granny talked them up and it was always clear how much she loved them and thought they were the most awesome people ever. It has only just occurred to me, maybe she did the same about me, to them.
My Granny was the best grandmother a person could ever dream to have.