My grandmother passed away this past Sunday. Aspasia “Soula” Voliotis was 86. She was born on 07/07/1932, the same exact day/year that her husband, Stan (or Stelios if you’re legit ethnic) was born.

Now, you may be wondering what ‘Otranto’ means. It’s not a random word, it’s the name of the ship my grandmother caught here in 1956. I didn’t know this, not until yesterday. I mean, I knew they caught a ship, I knew it was the mid-‘50’s, but besides that, nothing. Since I found her immigration records I can’t stop thinking about that ship. A mail ship turned WWII Landing Ship, turned passenger ship. It hurts my brain thinking about it really.

Stan was already in Australia, getting everything set up for the family and Nan came over, my 1-year-old Uncle Jimmy with her. A strange new country, trying to build a better life.

For most of my life, my Nan was an everyday staple. We’d go to her house every day after school, she’d look after us every second weekend while mum worked. Nan loved Karly and me a lot. We were never a burden and she always made us feel loved and wanted. I realise how lucky we are, to have been surrounded by people who legitimately wanted us around, even when we were being little assholes.

My grandmother did nothing by halves, she was the epitome of excessive. If she liked a top, she’d have it in every colour, if she liked a pair of shoes, every colour, handbags, purses, scarves – you get the drill. Her house was full of clothes and accessories, her bedroom, family room, lounge room, garage and laundry, anywhere she could find a space, she’d fill.

She lived her best life, a life which wasn’t an easy one. Immigrated to a new country, built a new life, watched her husband die when she was 37, had to rebuild her life again, without the ‘breadwinner’, she found new love with Charlie, the man I grew up calling ‘Pop’, just to watch him die in 2006. Shortly thereafter, the ‘family’ home of 52 Carrington Rd was sold, and she and my Uncle Murray moved to Epping to be closer to us.

Nan was smitten with Mia, from the day Mia was born, until the day Nan died, even after dementia made her forget who exactly Mia was, Nanna loved her unconditionally.

After dementia set in, when Uncle Murray realised he couldn’t look after a toddler and a dependent mother, we decided to move her to an aged care facility.

It was while she was in aged care that she had to watch her youngest child pass away too. Uncle Murray was Nan’s favourite, I have no doubt of that.

Nan was a smart lady, she spoke 6 languages, could read and write in at least 3 and she was the valedictorian of her school. She was fierce, strong-willed and she lived every day to the fullest.

She was a party animal. I mentioned earlier that we would go to her house every day after school, what I didn’t mention is that most days we’d get to her house at 3:30 and her and pop would have just woken up, not getting home till 6-7am. My grandmother had more of a social life than I did!

She often had no filter, and she honestly gave no fucks either. She asked Karly why she wore eyeshadow on her upper lip (nope, just her moustache), asked my friend Jackie if she was pregnant (nope, she wasn’t, no apologies either), called my friend Todd ‘Steve’ for at least 6 years, regardless of how many times we’d correct her. Got up in the middle of Christmas dinner and came inside and started watching Wheel of Fortune, no explanation, just up and left.

I have a thousand stories about my Grandmother. From inviting Jehovah’s witnesses to Easter Dinner, to constantly trying to give clothes and jewellery to me and my friends. She was a good woman.

Watching her decline into dementia was terrible, not because she hasn’t remembered who I am for years, but because she would be so devastated by not knowing.

And while I have my thousands of stories, there are a thousand more I wish I had. I wish I knew what it was like to settle in Australia in the 1950’s, I wish I knew about the jobs she had, the men she loved, the stories I’ll never know. I wish I had cared a little bit more when she was alive, instead of regretting it in her death.

Truth be told though, I’ve regretted it long before now. I’ve missed her long before now.

Sagapo yiayia, Rest In Peace.