It’s not until you really take the time to sit down and think hard that you realise that you are actually missing out on something in your life.

The recent passing away of my Nanna has made me stop and think about quite a few different things in my life, things that have happened and are happening still.

I lost my Nan in November 2007, and it wasn’t until after she’d ‘gone’ that I realised I had missed out on so much without her in my life, and so had my kids.

We live quite a distance away from her, around 300 miles and four hours in the car to be more exact. Such a long way to go with five screaming kids in the car for a short weekend visit, much better to wait until we have a week off school and work to visit, so I thought.

Weeks turned into months and eventually months turned into years. Phone calls stopped, as did letters and before I knew it we were only sending birthday and Christmas cards, until those stopped too.

I’ve got plenty of time, there’s always next year. The kids can send her some photos and a letter through the post. We’ll visit next school holidays…

The list of excuses only got longer and more feeble. When I was younger and lived closer to my Nan, we went round every Sunday for dinner, all the family round the table together. My Nan always saved me a girl’s magazine every week and I couldn’t wait to read the next installment of the girl’s adventures. It was called ‘Bunty’ and she had been having it delivered every week since my Mum was a girl. She had it delivered especially for me.

My cousins never had it, never anything extra special for them. They often got told off by her too, occassionally had their legs smacked if they were naughty aswell. Not me though, never said an unkind word to me. I must have been naughty, but never got scolded once by her.

I used to sleep over sometimes too, in her giant king size bed, with blankets and quilts and frilly pillows as far as the eye could see! I used to snuggle up and she would sing me a lullaby until I fell asleep, she would always leave the door ajar and her special bedside reading lamp on too.

My cousins never got to sleep in her bed, nor did they have lullabys to send them off.

She used to make the best tasting currant flan known to man, and always let me eat more than anyone else. I was always allowed to eat extra currants when I went over too, straight from the special jar on the top shelf.

No-one else ever got any special treats, just me, not even my little sister!

I never realised at the time, but I was spoiled by her more than any of the other kids, and obviously loved a great deal.

Yet as I grew older, we moved away, far away and I was too young to travel by myself to see her.

A few years later she moved close by us and I was happy she was closer, but being a teenager by this time I had many more ‘important’ things going on in my life to see her very often. She may well have been still at the other end of the country, for all I saw her.

When I met my husband and moved away again, to the other side of the country, it didn’t seem such a big deal. Then the visits got fewer and the excuses grew.

We went to see her in August 2007, just for an hour or two, while we were staying at my Mum’s. We took all five kids, the baby being only 6 months old and the first time she saw him. It was also the last.

My third  and fourth children had only seen her once each too, until that day. Now they will never see her again, and neither will my baby.

She was SO happy that day, just for an hour. Seeing the kids and me, stuffing them full of packets of biscuits and juice, holding the baby and singing to him. She was so happy it broke my heart, and continues to do so now, knowing it was the last time she ever saw them.

It is with an incredibly heavy heart, full of anger, upset and regret that I realise the HUGE part of my life I will never get back and all the things I have missed out on by not seeing her more often.

More importantly, my kids have missed out on having a wonderful figure in their lives, and never will have now. They will never listen to her stories, or taste her currant flan. Never listen to her voice lull them to sleep or snuggle up tight in her cosy bed.

I will never hear her voice or see her smile, never listen to her moan about everything or learn about her most recent big win at bingo.

She is gone forever, laid to rest, and never will I ever get back those wasted years of my life where I could have gone to see her, could have picked up the phone, sent her a photo of the kids or just gone to sit with her and listen to her voice. Never again will I listen to her wise words, or smile to myself as she puts the world to rights.

She was a brave, strong woman, who cared deeply for her family and friends, loyal and hard-working and dealt with so much more than she should have done.

I never realised how much I love and admire her, and how mcuh I will miss her presence.

I am filled with regret that I never gave her the chance to spend time with me and my kids, let her share our lives. I will eternally hate myself for leaving her on the outside of my life and making her feel like she wasn’t wanted or needed. I will never forgive myself and I just hope she could forgive me and understand.

I hope that she’s happy where she is and having a well-earned rest. I hope she’s not angry with me and I hope that she still loves me. I hope that she doesn’t hate me for holding her at arms length, however unintentional it was on my part. I hope she doesn’t hate me for denying her her great-grandchildren, her only great-grandchildren. I hope I see her again someday, and that she welcomes me with loving arms.

I hope she knew that I love her.

I’m sorry Nanna, I loved you then and still do now. I’m so sorry.