Yia Yia, you were my hero, I know things will change now, you were my legacy, my traditions, my heritage, my pride.

Mending my clothes when I was young, cooking my favourite macaroni for me every time I visited, Insisting I eat that awful trahana, “it’s good for you” you would say. Making sure I always took care of my self, oh the amount of times you would remind me!

Hiding the £1 in the cake at New year, the New Years spreads we used to enjoy with all the favourites dolmades, keftedes. Those were my favourite times.

I knew when I visited you there was no way we’d see any English tv other than eastenders, those super old terrible Greek soap operas were always on repeat.

I’ll remember the way we would walk arm in arm to the ‘turkish shop’ for koulouri most days, who you later (probably about 20 years later!) found out were actually Kurdish, I don’t think many people would get away with that mistake for so long.

I loved the way you would say creepy crawlies, call people pests when they poked fun at you, I’ll remember your laugh and your smile, you had so many quirks and qualities and I just wanted to show you off to all my friends.

I was so proud of you. You overcame grief more than anyone I’ll know, but those three glorious men of yours will be fighting over you in heaven. You raised a family and moved to a foreign country where you couldn’t read or speak the language. You had so much pride in your appearance and home, you were immaculate, all 4ft 10” of you (and shrinking but still a force to be reckoned with), You would make the bed as soon as I got out of it in the morning, I would still be in my pjs and you’d have got dressed, had breakfast (always special k) and made the bed before I’d even had chance to change. Well that was before the horrid D word crept in. I guess that’s what makes this easier.

I’m sad, I knew this chapter would eventually end, I know a lot of traditions are gone, but things started to change 3 years ago, I know you are at peace.

Kalinikta Yia Yia

Sagapo poli