Sometimes it’s easier to feel angry.

It’s easier to feel angry than it is to admit how much you miss her.

It’s easier to feel angry than it is to stare at that urn with its Chinese markings and to know that your British grandmother died from a razor and a broken heart.

Nanny lived next door to Mum and Dad. She’d moved from England  to Canada in 1996 so my Mum could take care of her.

But in 1999, Dad was told he was being transferred.

Nanny didn’t want to move. She told my parents as much. My parents told her they had no choice, but they would make sure to take care of her and find her a good place to live near them.

Then they left to scout out the place they would be moving to.

The day after their return, Nanny told them not to come and visit until late in the afternoon.

That’s when my mum found her, dead in the bathtub. No note.

(for the rest of this post, please join me over HERE at Prodigal? Thanks friends.)