Planting New Roots

It's the season of fresh starts... but do some traumas run just too deep to move on from?

- JANE CORRY

Easter has always been my favourite time of the year. It's that lovely, bright feeling that winter is over. It's those nodding yellow daffodils. It's the hope that lies ahead. And there's chocolate! Who doesn't like chocolate?

Matthew, actually. But I'm not going to think about him now. I'm in the car, on the way to see my beautiful grandchildren and I can't wait! Their Easter eggs are in the boot, hidden in pillowcases so they can't see them.

Then I think of our old family gatherings and my chest starts thumping.

Calm down, I tell myself, but then a car overtakes me very fast on the motorway and I find myself sweating with panic.

"Stop it," I say out loud. "It's all right." It's not a long journey but it's a big step after everything that's happened.

At last! I'm here! I can see the children waiting for me, noses pressed against the window. The front door opens and they come running out.

"Granny!" cries seven-year-old Lily.

She flings her arms around me and I can tell her love is real. Not the fake kind where a child is instructed to hug someone.

"Look," she says proudly. "I bought you some daffodils." She gives me a bunch tied up with a pretty yellow ribbon.

"How lovely," I say. "Thank you so much. They're beautiful."

Five-year-old Billy presses a stone into my free hand. It has purple and yellow stripes. "I found it in the garden," he says, "and I painted it specially for you."

"Wow," I say. "That's incredible." Then my daughter Chrissie comes out.

"Are you all right, Mum?"

It doesn't seem so very long ago since I was comforting her as a child. Now she's doing the same to me. It doesn't feel right. Mothers should be stronger. Especially grandmothers.

"I'm fine," I assure her as my kind son-in-law unloads the pillowcases.

"Are the eggs inside?" asks Lily.

"Maybe," I tease.

"Grandad..." begins Billy.

"Shh," says my daughter.