Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer
Dear Nana,
Spain is over rated.
When we made the agreement that I was to go to Spain rather than come home for your funeral, I didn’t think you would actually die. But you did and I did and Spain is over rated.
I would rather you be here bitching and whining about how you don’t like being old and missing Pop than see the shadow that comes over Mum’s face when she wants to show you something and realises you are no longer here.
So come back, all is forgiven. Happy 101st and I hope Pop is treating you well.
Love Nicci.
Dear Dad,
I didn’t know how to celebrate your birthday so I baked this cake.
As I creamed the butter and sugar, beat in the eggs and flour, I thought of Christmas 2011 and the time we spent together, just the two of us, while the rest of the family were away. I loved that time as I had you all to myself – something rare and prized among such a large family. It was that time together that made me want to move back to Melbourne to be amongst the family again. You always wanted me to home, I’m just sad that you didn’t live to see it.
Happy birthday Dad – here’s the cake, made with love and happy memories, for you and the ants at your graveside.
Love Nic, your number 6 daughter.
Dear Jesse,
Happy birthday my beautiful, beautiful boy. Funny how I still call you ‘boy’ even though you are grown and towered over me.
Yesterday, I thought of our holiday in Italy– your wide eyed staring at the African traders selling knockoff bags and scarves, stuffing your face with one pizza after another and hiding your panic at not being able to understand what people were saying around you. I remember, when given the choice of seeing yet another church or going to play, you chose the church because you knew how much I loved the architecture. It was then that I saw the glimmer of what others would come to know once you got through all the teenage crap. I hope you realised how special and loved you were and that I miss you everyday.
So happy 21st my Best Jess, say hello to Dad for me and glide among the churches of Florence and think of me.
Nic xxx
PS, I brought you cake – it’s your birthday and you must have cake. Some things never change.