Dear my nameless, faceless Ba

Dear my nameless, faceless Ba,

Can you hear me?

I haven’t spoken to you, or written, in a year. Life feels hard again. What is it about this time of year?

I wish I had known you, your name, your face. In my mind you’re stood still, your sari is catching the breeze. The hem of your skirt licks the dust as you turn away.

I wonder if you’re proud of me. Of my siblings, my cousins, my aunt, my father? What would you make of us? What would you think of this mess we made?

You seem to hold part of that missing piece for me. I’m not sure which piece it is.

I often speak to you, I’ve no idea if you hear me. But it feels good. It feels good to look up into that enormous sky flecked with starlings and I wonder if you once looked up at the same piece of sky when you walked this earth.

– Saffron

Ba and Nanny

I never knew either of my Grandmothers. Both passed away long before I was born, and both left behind husbands who were uninterested in having relationships with my sister and I.

I think about my Grandmothers a lot. I wonder whether my Dad’s mother, my Ba, would be proud of the person I am. And whether my Nanny would have taught me to be more strong willed. But ultimately, I wonder what sorts of women they were. And what sort of a woman they’d have taught me to become.

My Grandfathers- one a narrow minded and selfish man and the other abusive and backwards, have little desire to forge relationships with any of their grandchildren. Probably for the best.

My Mum’s father and his lovely wife recently moved closer to home. While he is a particularly self centred man, his wife is a selfless woman, who seems to manage my Grandfather far better than anyone else. I didn’t see much of her while I was growing up, but I am grateful for her now. Especially now I realise what I missed from not having my Grandmothers when I was growing up.

Perhaps my Ba and my Nanny are watching somewhere, dresses billowing in the hazy sunlight, waiting for us all to meet.