The young are born to seek adventure, the old have matured to become the stability that is required for such things. As such, Grandma was a light and sunny harbour no matter where I sailed.
Grandma was the mama bear of mama bears, and so was my ultimate sense of comfort and safety in this world.
With Grandma I was the babe of the Russian dolls, that layering of maternal protections.
My Grandma was the quiet in every storm, as if she had the power to command gales into gentle summer breeze.
Grandma was the comfort and the quick-wit, the wise and the emotionally generous.
Grandma led as great women leaders so often do, never once seeking power, yet so respected as to have her advice sought and revered.
In the storms of parenthood, my Grandmother was the anchor my parents needed, the wise word, the steady hand, that kept our family ship sailing into calm waters.
The sense of mirth and good humour that had seen my Grandmother through the slums and the war, was ever there in her eyes as she spoke. She had created her own boat of goodness and become its stalwart captain.