A Story.

If I had told this story a few weeks ago I am certain it would not be the story I am about to tell, for it is only recently that the events have reached a logger-head (for a way of words).

I think it began in 2005, although its often hard to determine the beginning of a snowball.

Nana White was a party animal, with her spiky bleached blonde hair, tattoos and piercing she was not the "normal" Nana. When I say normal I refer to the stereotypical Grandma, hair in rollers, sitting at home watching casualty on a Saturday night, munching mint imperials.

In 2005 Nana ran away with an Elvis lookalike from the 'New Inn Kareoke Bar'. Off Nana went in the middle of the night, taking only a bin-liner of clothing at the age of 62. Gramps was in pieces, with just a note of explanation. There was talk of who she had ran away with but to my ears people could only speculate. It could have been anyone.

Nana dissapeared with no contact with any of the family for three years. Nobody knew where she was but we knew from Gramps that divorce proceedings were on-going.

I remember being annoyed, angry. Not because she had done it, her and Gramps had slept in seperate rooms for years, but by the way it which she had done it.

Time passed and I reached milestones, milestones we should have shared and moments we have lost. Nana who had always been there was not. I remember being annoyed, angry that i could not share my G.C.S.E results with her.

Out of the blue, a few weeks before my 18th birthday, there was a knock on the door. The postman, nothing unusual, who was carrying a small package addressed to me. I ripped open the packaging to reveal a small ringbox, it it two rings, one a wedding band the other a blue stone set around a flower of diamonds.

They were Nana's rings, panick began rising inside of me. why was she sending me these rings? Had something happened to her?

Inside the package was a small note folded several times, Nana's handwriting. I remember my heart racing, this was the first anybody had with Nana in three years. In the note she explained she had remarried in a small ceremony to a man called Ian and she was happy but first and foremost sorry for what she had done. The rings, she explained, were for me. My Great-Grandma's wedding band and the other a gift she had recieved from her father for her eighteenth birthday.

I remember being annoyed, angry. But I also remember crying. She wasnt coming back and the family that was once so close was to remain ripped down the middle.

But this isn't where the story ends because a year or so later Nana made a call to me revealing her address close-by in Pocklington. It is there I met the Elvis lookalike from the local Kareoke club. True to the word he was a dead ringer for the style of Elvis. I remember him, I remember his song from nights out with Nan, one line, the only line I remember, plays on repeat in my mind. "Running bear loves little white dove". The Elvis lookalike from the local Kareoke club was ill, although I couldnt tell you one thing that was wrong as I didnt dare to ask. It was evident he struggled with his breathing, but chugging away on 60 cigarettes you would never of guessed.

He made Nan happy, and who could deny her happiness. Her trademark Nan looks were gone and in replace a "normal Grandma" look. Her tattoos well and truely hidden. The room was filled with dolphins. Nana loved dolphins and had one tattood on her shoulder. She had obviously been busy re-building her ornamental collection. I had my Nan back and I remember feeling great, so what if she had changed a-bit.

But this isnt where the story ends because it's Wednesday and I'm well into my daily routine and the phone rings and it's my Nan. The strong female constant (minus three years) and she is crying, the first time I have ever heard her cry. The head-strong Nan vulnerable and widowed. It was my turn to be the strong one and without hesitation left work and began the drive home, my home town. I remember feeling shocked, I knew the Elvis lookalike from the local Kareoke bar wasnt well. Three weeks prior he had been diagnosed with fatal cancer, again I had been protected by the details. The Elvis lookalike from the local Kareoke bar had been given Twelve months to live, not three weeks. Nan had twelve months not three weeks. I remember feeling robbed, arriving at Nan's it was dark, almost eight o'clock. Her windows wide open and the television on. But there was no answer to the buzzer, just her dog barking. I keep buzzing, I can hear it on the other side and theres no answer. Surely she hasnt gone out. I remember panicking. So I buzzed the lady upstairs, who is severely deaf in hope that she might hear me. I stand buzzing both buzzers for almost half an hour, finally the lady upstairs opens the door. Shouting she asks how long I have been buzzing, I politley smile and reply 'Not long.'

Everything is as it should be, exactly the same as last time I was here, with perhaps a few more dolphins, it is hard to keep track of the collection these days. Nan is fast asleep the dog sat growling protectively by her side. I remember panicking, looking for a sign of her stomach rising and falling. She was fine. I closed the windows and curse her for leaving them open. Then I sit and remain sitting surrounded by fond memories. I dont want to leave so I sit and wait for the sun to come up in reflective silence. The line "Running bear loves little white dove" melodically on repeat in my mind.