Our beautiful nan

As some of you may know, my nan, June Hitt or Nanny June, passed away on 31st March, breaking the hearts of our family and depriving the world of one of the most wonderful people you could ever be lucky enough to meet.

There are five of us that have the privilege of calling our nan Nan and she loved us all in her own wears-her-heart-on-her-sleeve Welsh Nan way, the kind of obvious, abundant and overflowing, never-once-doubted-her-love-for-us kind of love that slightly embarrasses you when you're a teenager but makes you love her even more as an adult.

But she wasn't a stereotypical, wussy kind of Nan.
Our Nan had Va Va Voom.
One favourite memory that has been lodged in my mind recently involves me, my Nan and Grandad drinking beer in street cafe in Prague surrounded by Dutch football fans who were exceedingly enamoured with her spirit and willingness to get involved with the chanting crowds, air punching and Liverpool-related football banter - she had only gone and pulled herself a hot Dutchman who wanted to take her home!
My Grandad was lucky to get her back.

She had a bit of an edge to her too.
Most people think she never had a bad word to say about anyone, but having watched several rugby matches with her, I can categorically state this is incorrect.
There has been many a player / coach / referee who would have encountered The Wrath of June had they the misfortune of walking into Partridge Road following a rugby game - particularly an international.

One thing that all us Hitt Kids have said about our nan is that she was our family glue.
She still is, but just because our glue isn't physically with us any more, it doesn't mean things will change. And she's made so much of a mark on every one of us, we'll carry her around with us forever.
And Grandad, we'll still see you as much as before, it means you'll have to make the coffee and cheese on toast now! And I can be just as fussy about my coffee as you can about your tea you know...

As far as Nans go, I've been exceptionally lucky. I love thinking they're up there together watching over us all, keeping us safe and out of trouble (and hopefully either laughing at the things they've found out about us or looking the other way).

I didn't think not being there at the funeral would break my heart as much as it is, but seeing as I'm on the equator, I like to think I'm a little bit closer to her new bright sparkling star.

Nan, I'll give listening to Grandad a go on Thursday and try as hard as possible not to dwell in sadness about what we've lost and think about the love and happiness you gave us for so long.
I'll tell the gorillas you said hi.

XXX