Go Well, Nan
I’d never seen the nature of dying close up before. When granddad died 10 years ago, I was new to Canterbury and settling in still — busy with growing into my new home. I couldn’t visit London to see him often when he was ill, and in some ways this has left me able to remember him in happier times, before dementia took too stronger a hold. It’s been different with Nan.
My Nan lived to 92 years old until she died peacefully this morning, and for the past 20 years my Mum has supported her through growing fragility, and I’ve been honoured to help my Mum do the very best for Tea Withers. Tea is an Italian name, pronounced tay-a. I say honoured, because my Nan was an incredible lady. At the tender age of 17 in northern Italy just after World War Two, my English-French grandfather proposed to my Italian Nan, and asked her to come back to England with him. She’d go on to spend the rest of her life with him, forgoing the Mediterranean sunshine, family and friends to be with John Withers in rainy war-torn London. No stranger to hardship, she met my grandfather during dark times for Italy, living under the facist rule of Mussolini. Born in 1927 to a farming family, she was a teenager on the farm at the start of World War 2. Set in the beautifully sunny, rural & rustic surroundings, my granddads army regiment stopped at her farmhouse on the way to Africa. She made tea for the troops and took it to them. Granddad always did like Tea. It was love at first sight, and after the war was over, my granddad traveled back to Italy to propose to my Nan. Had it of been today, there is no doubt the story would have gone viral! She supported my granddad as he built a business building homes for a growing population in booming Britain. They’d go on to have a beautiful daughter, my mum, Diana. They would take her on many Italian adventures, something my Mum has done with me, and Sam and I will do with our kids (and/or dogs) one day too.
Nan’s strength was undeniable, learning a new language in a strange new country at 19, and watching the world change around her rapidly. She adapted fast, too; becoming a big fan of watching videos on my iPhone and having her photo taken on selfie mode. She loved a snapchat filter. At 17 her life presented her with an opportunity with breathable implications for her life, and she grabbed it with both hands, and it took her on a journey from a farm girl in Italy to a beautiful Italian woman, the loving, kind gentle and caring matriarch of the family, until her life would end peacefully today in the same building she gave birth in over 50 years ago — I assume not so peacefully.
Being a little older now than when my granddad died, I’ve been closer and more a part of the experience this time. Seeing Nan grow older and weaker, but look so at peace, happy and content the constant vibe. I’ve been able to be more observant and have thought so very deeply about reaching the end of life’s journey, the nice bits and the difficult bits. It’s been tough, but also perfect. As a person, I feel able to say I’ve developed a deeper understanding of what it all means, and what life means to me. Maybe this comes with age and experience- but this experience has finally made me realise how simple life is. That’s because Nan’s life and her death has a beautiful and simple message for me — grab opportunities, love people, and be nice. Become a person that means the world to other people, because through doing that, you teach them to do the same. That’s what Nan did.
I am a French-Italian-English-Yorkshire boy, born and raised in London and settled in Canterbury, geographically closer to my roots in France than those in Croydon. And all because of an extraordinary and exciting love-fuelled risk that my Nan took in 1943. Tea Withers was an extraordinary lady, that had an extraordinary daughter that had me. And for that reason, I’ll do my best to be extraordinary myself. And that means grabbing opportunities, loving people and being nice. Thank you, Nan, for teaching me all I needed to know so far.
