Feb Photo 3 – Hands
When I first saw today’s photo topic, I was thinking of ways to be witty… clock hands, a drawing of a hand, etc.
I took this image a few months ago, but I keep taking similar photos as time goes by. This is me, holding my 94 year-old Grandma’s hand as I sit with her in the Nursing Home. I love her hands, as they tell a story of life, of hardships and of determination.
I have spoken of my Nan on here a few times, but I am unsure if I have mentioned her musical talent. My Nan learnt music from a very young age, being taught by the local nuns at the convent. Nan did not come from a wealthy family, but they managed to keep a roof over their head, and the 7 children fed and clothed. For Nan to learn music, it must have been a big deal, as none of her other siblings were able to learn as well. Nan put her heart into her music, passing her exams at an early age, and then going on to graduate from the London Conservatory of Music by the age of 15.
Nan filled in for the church organist one Sunday when she was 15, as the organist was ill. For the next 75 years, Nan played the organ at St Mary’s in Williamstown, only missing a few Sundays towards the end of her reign due to illness or surgeries. She played every single Sunday, as well as Communions, Confirmations, Weddings, Funerals and even picked up some work as a temporary organist at some of the other local churches for their events, if their organist was unable to play.
For as long as I can remember, Nan’s hands have been twisted and bent due to her arthritis, however she has always played well, and never missed a gig due to aching hands.
All of this was done whilst raising my mother, running a household, secretarial work for a local establishment, working in a telephone exchange during the war and still managing to find time to help raise myself and my sisters, volunteer at various places, catch up with friends and family on a regular basis and keeping her rose bushes well manicured.
My Nan’s hands could tell 1,000 stories.