Diary of a Gen Z student: I'm lucky to have had a woman like my Nana in my life

Irish Examiner columnist, Jane Cowan photographed at her home in Dunshaughlin, County Meath. Photo: Barry Cronin

A grandmother is a kind of institution. Mine was the foundation upon which my family was built. 

A beautiful, kind, and resilient woman from Douglas, Cork. She had seven children and 22 grandchildren. We all loved her dearly. 

After a long, hard battle with sickness — one she fought valiantly — she passed away, peacefully, last Friday.

I have such fond memories of my Nana. Our house was built just down the road from hers, so we popped in most days. 

Nana’s was where we would be adorned with cakes, thick slices of ice cream, soups, scones, sausages. There was always something on the go. ‘I’m not hungry’, wasn’t a phrase she could ever get to grips with. 

When the weather was dry, or warm, or the herd of children in the sitting room were getting a bit rowdy, she would pack us all a picnic. Off we’d go, down the field to eat our sandwiches and biscuits under the shade of a tree.

And Nana would get her only peaceful cup of tea that day.

My whole family gathered in Nana’s house. Some of my happiest childhood memories unfolded there. 

My grandparents were farmers and loved to include us in the goings-on of the farm. In spring, during calving season, my Nana would bring us out to meet the newest calf. 

One year, I named a calf Velvet, because of its black fur. Imagine my shock when I asked my Nana where Velvet had disappeared to, a few years later. 

I was no taller than my Nana’s walking stick, and the reality of the farm had been unclear to me, until that moment. The lie was up. 

I was upset, but it was nothing a slice of her homemade cake couldn’t solve. She had an answer for everything. And it was always right.

When my older sister took a particular interest in horse riding, again, Nana knew what to do. Though my parents told her not to, she rustled up a pony for my sister. 

The introduction was unforgettable. The pony was led into the kitchen, to greet my sister after school. You may think a pony in the kitchen seems odd, but not in that house.

The animals were part of the family, as far as my Nana was concerned. That pony served as a great source of entertainment for many grandchildren, including me.

I have found myself reflecting so much on her life this week. She grew up in Ireland. But it was a different country then. When she first married my Grandad, she worked as a lab technician in Chicago. But the marriage bar meant she had to stop working when my grandparents returned from the States. She’d have given anything for the opportunities that women have now. 

 She was so ahead of her time. She could fix anything herself, whether it was the dishwasher or the washing machine. She used to carry a screwdriver in her handbag, just in case. You never know when you’ll need to fix something.

Nana proved that very point when she was in hospital in her 30s. The television, which had been playing her beloved Coronation Street, went blank. No need to call a handyman: Nana was on the case. 

She grabs the screwdriver from her handbag, makes a few adjustments, and restores broadcasting to the ward. I’m not lying when I say there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do.

Over the past five years, she showed that time and time again, as she fought through terrible illness. She braved it all with a quiet resilience. Her composure never wavered.  And she always had time for her family. 

When I started writing for this newspaper, she would listen carefully, and with pride, as my latest column was read out. As a proud Cork woman, she was delighted I was writing for a decent paper like ‘The Cork Examiner’. And it most certainly was ‘The Cork Examiner’, in her eyes.

She touched the lives of so many people during her time; the packed church I sat in this morning made that clear.

The number of people at her Mass was wonderful to see. The words of the people that loved her were so comforting to hear. 

And while I feel so much sadness at her passing, I’m also overwhelmed by how lucky I feel to have grown up with a woman like her in my life.