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Journalling reads: If someone was to ask me to sum up my memories of Nana Bradley, I am not really sure where I would start. There are so many little things, that seemed unimportant when you she was alive, so insignificant but so undeniably her. Things like how whenever I visited her with Nan she would always pour me a glass of lemonade from the glass lemonade bottle, while we sat at the kitchen table in front of the window. The yellow cupboard doors and the unique smell, a mixture of tea and gingerbread biscuits mixed with something I could never quite put my finger on., but I would have known I was stood in her kitchen even if I was blindfolded. Or how when she was sitting talking to Nan in the living room I would sit and stare at all the ornaments and always count the ducks on the wall to make sure there was still 3 there, I remember always thinking that one day tone was bound to fly away. But more than anything else I remember the weekly visits to our house. Dad would go and pick her up from her flat and we would all eagerly await her arrival. Once she got there she would settle herself in the armchair in front of the television and watch WWF wrestling videos and drink cups of tea. When she got ill, none of us really had any idea of how serious it was, we had no experience of anyone being ill enough to die. Sure we had been to hospitals before but only for things like when Nan had her eye operations, or when she had that nasty infection in her leg. It was fathers day when she died and it was a shock to everyone. It was Fatherís Day and Nan had been at the hospital all day with her. We had all stopped at the chip shop on the way home from the hospital. I will never forget how gutted Dad was, he had always had a real soft spot for her. I remember how we all had to go shopping for funeral clothes, how nervous we all were because we had no idea what to expect since we had never been to a funeral before. I remember feeling sad that everyone was so eager to claim her things as there own. It just didnít feel like her home without her in it and we were all eager to leave and go home. It makes me sad that she never got to meet so many of her grandchildren. I would have loved to have seen what she thought of becoming a great great great grandmother.