Who has the songs to sing to me when I am blue?

Who has the tenderness of a mother?
Who has the wisdom of a schoolteacher?
Who has the tricks of the magician?
Who has the ability to see the world through a child’s eye?
Who has the stories about Mum and Dad?
Who has always loved me no matter what I do?
Who has the songs to sing to me when I am blue?
Of course, it is my Grandma,
And I love you and you blessed my life!
(Catherine Pulsifer)

I’m constantly being called a granny because I crochet. But if all granny’s warm hearts like my granny sure did, I don’t mind being called a granny at all.

My great gran was the most exceptional lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Her warm heartfelt hugs as I snuggled into lap as she read me poems, story’s and sang the most enchanting Irish songs, in her sweet Irish accent, there was no place I would rather have been.
Her sweetie pot filled with humbugs next to her comfy armchair always filled so that her grandchildren could have that sweet treat that our parents would only allow on pocket-money day.
She would sit and listen to every word we spoke no matter the rubbish that would pour out as mouths.
She truly listened and even though she was a Victorian child at heart and the world had changed in front of her eyes, she would do her up most to try to understand the modern world and help to put life’s troubles into prospective, she would put the world to rights just by being her and opening her arm to give us the hug that protected us from the monsters under our beds.
She loved with her whole heart, her time was solely ours, her love unconditional.
There is truly no one like a granny.
She was my first ever heartbreak and I miss her terribly, her smile, her wisdom, her voice, her hugs.

While people take the piss that I make crochet blankets, hats or what ever they ask for, I do it out of love, friendship and respect for the person I’m gifting it to. With every piece I create, a sense of pride fills my soul and I feel as though I have actually achieved something.
Since life grow extremely hard, I feel I really don’t have a purpose, I have this humongous hole in my life, that can only be filled by the love of my life, with that emptiness eating away at me I have to try to do anything to give myself a little peace, a little sense of achievement, a little pride. Creating a keepsake, an heirloom that I call, a hug in a box, I feel I’m giving out a little love, that in person, I struggle to give. So even though people tease me, call me granny, I really don’t mind because granny’s give the best hugs.👵🏻

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