Sunday Ritual

Every Sunday morning, I visit my last surviving grandmother. Nonna is 86 and lives a handy 10 minute walk away.

Age is catching up with her. Her short term memory isn't what it used to be and I often have the same conversations with her. She is Italian, she often starts sentences in English and finishes them in Italian, which would be handy if I could speak Italian. She lives with her youngest son who is also her carer.

One thing she doesn't forget is that I visit on Sundays, and have done for years. I'm her oldest Grandson and was named after her husband so we always share a special bond. She brews a coffee and I do the TV crossword. We then talk for a bit and I catch up on what else is happening in the family. My uncle and I have an unscripted roleplay where he keeps picking on her and I keep defending her. She loves it.It is at a point now where if I can't make Sunday, I need to ring or give notice so that she doesn't worry that she has done something wrong or anything like that.

The thing I like most about Sundays is that she really appreciates my company, which is why I equally appreciate being there. It is a simple gesture, but one thing my parents have instilled upon me from a young age is respect for my grandparents.