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Mindin

Author: Ross Crawford

Ma Granny Alice passed awa last year.

'It wisnae coronavirus.'

Ah alwis feel the need tae get that in afore emdy asks, as if ahm sparin them the bother. Ah hink ahm actually feart she’ll become jist anither statistic fae that rotten year.

Although she didnae die due tae contractin coronavirus, it still loomed large ower her passin. The mornin efter, ah received a choked phone-call fae ma da. Ah couldnae hug him then and ah still huvnae.

At the funeral, we wur limited tae ten attendees, aw ae us staunin apairt in oor discrete faimily units. Her teeny coffin wis pulled oantae a trolley by the attendants and wheeled unceremoniously intae the crematorium.

The service itsel wis aw too brief. 'They huv a really busy schedule,' ma da explained.

Efterwurds, there wis some sma talk in the car park and then we were awa up the road. There wis a pandemic oan, efter aw.

But ah ken that soon we'll come thegither again tae commemorate ma granny’s life.

We'll look at auld, crinkled photies of her at the dancin. We'll laugh and reminisce aboot funny anecdotes, like when she misjudged a road crossing in Largs and ah heard a swearie word fur the first time. We'll share oor favourite sayings ae hers and marvel at her command ae the Scots leid.

There’s nae doot it will be different – and smaller than she deserves – but the important hing is tae remember, tae mind. Seems tae me that’s never been mair important than it is noo.

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