This year has been somewhat tumultuous... got off to a bad start, and has been going downhill ever since. Yet I take solace in what I still have, especially the memories. Nothing can last forever but the moments we recall forever.

A rather sad trip to New Zealand was made in February this year to farewell my Grandmother, Betty Arnold. I wrote this mainly as an expression how I felt, but my father read it and asked me to read it at Grandma's funeral, as it was his mother that had passed, and he didn't feel like he could hold it together if he said something. I read it every now and then, just to remember what she was like, and to retain some sort of optimism.

. . .


During the last week, I’ve learned youth allows one to grow comfortable with the misconceptions naiveté allows us. It allows one to forget that we have but a finite time on this earth, and that everyone must die. It allows us to forget that the ones we love, the people we hold closest to our heart, won’t always be around.

A week ago, 84 years would have seemed an impossibly long time to me, almost infinite. A week ago, I had never had death hit so close to home. A week ago, it was easy to believe that my loved ones would live forever.

Today, 84 years seems so fleeting, merely the blink of an eye. Today, I understand the cruel reality of life; that those we love and those whom love us will not always be with us, that our time is measured and finite, that we are but mortal. But today I realise that while our time is limited, there is something timeless amongst us.

Living in Australia, I only ever got to visit my Grandparents every couple of years. Regardless, what I remember best about my grandma was her ability to unreservedly express love and affection. She would talk to us for hours, questioning us out of genuine interest about how school was, what our favourite subjects were, and what we wanted to do in the future. She was not merely someone who doted on her grandchildren, but a strong woman who loved life. No one could deny her enthusiasm, her love of puzzles, find-a-words, fish and chips and her morning bowl of porridge; her passion for the simplest things in life was refreshing in a world full of cynicism and apathy. Her affection was obvious regardless if she was hugging you or enquiring what you wanted for breakfast.

I’m old enough to understand that like anyone else, she wasn’t perfect. Yet I can also appreciate that such outward expression of love and affection is a rarity, and is something I will always admire and remember. I endeavour to become more like my grandmother and express my love more openly to my family and friends. I believe it is through love that we can become endless, for through love, Betty Arnold will continue to live on with me, as I’m sure she will live on with many here today. I take solace in the knowledge that despite being finite, there is a part of my grandma that is endless. Grandma may no longer be with us physically, yet I am certain her memory and her love will endure within us all.


. . .

Rest In Peace, Betty Arnold.