Ninna.

Hah, the last time I saw a big box of these was at my Ninnas when I visited her not long before she passed.
She was bed bound, she had been through hell and back and we all knew she didn't have long left.
I know what you can imagine, some old lady in bed sad and drawn- except she wasn't: she was still the life of the party.
She was made up that everyone was coming to see her, and between her long naps she was laughing, joking and flirting with the doctors, sharing a quip with anyone that would listen.
She didn't eat much, generally. But she ate a few good meals then, which was curious seeing as the cancer was in her stomach- she had a pretty good appetite.
Then there was the sweets. Maltesers on the occasion that I was visiting. She would give us a good telling off if we nicked one, and confiscated the box.
The times I spent with Ninna, especially over here in the Isle of Man, are treasured. Matthew, Lizzybeth, Terence and I always had a safe haven with her.
The mint imperials, the mobile phone she kept in her glasses case(?) "Where's your phone, Ninna?", "on the table... At home". The sleepovers where I would have a kit kat, followed by peanut butter on toast with a cup of tea whilst watching Midsomer Murders, we would say the Lord's Prayer and include every person we hold dear. Then I would get up early morn and get in to her bed and kick the poor lady in my sleep!
But she never complained.
So many memories and I can't say I ever took them for granted, because I didn't, I loved each moment spent with Ninna. She was the best. I'm glad she is up there with Granddad now, nothing else matters. It's where she always wanted to be.