It was peaceful and quiet and she wasn't in pain.
She finally got to go home to her husband.
After twenty years apart, I'm sure she was happy to see him.
I walked into the room complaining about how a nurse had mistaken me for a mother of two blonde children, of course I was doing that, but my aunt told me once I'd stopped talking.
Three words and they changed everything.
'Nanny's passed away.'
My auntie Sandra (nanny's sister) was closest to me. She told me to kiss her on the cheek but I couldn't. I just shook my head and put my hand over my mouth and cried.
It didn't last long. I cried for less than a minute.
When I had composed myself, I moved closer to nanny and kissed her forehead before sighing with relief.
Her suffering was over, finally.
I'd said my official 'Goodbye' to her the day before.
She was mostly out of it thanks to the cocktail of drugs they'd put her on to take away any pain in her last few days but she was, apparently, able to hear things.
Nanny told me a hundred times over that she wanted me to find a good man, marry him and have kids.
That's all she ever wanted for me.
I know her views were old fashioned but those were the things in her life that gave her the most happiness and she wanted that for me too.
She loved being married. She loved her husband and raising her children and, then, raising me.
I might not be ready for marriage and kids yet but I know that, when I do, she'll be watching over us all.
I promised her I'd find him and that I'd love him forever - the same way she loved my granddad.
I promised I'd tell our kids all about the strong, kind, wonderful woman who raised me.
She can't truly die until all of our stories about her are finished being told.
With that knowledge, I know it will be a long time before she's really gone forever.
I spent as much time with her as possible when I was younger. Every weekend, every weekday after school... If anyone was ever wondering where I was, you could be sure it was with her.
She was my first best friend, until I met Jane in 2000, and she was my hero.
We had so many traditions, nanny and I...
My favourite was always our trip to Jenners at Christmas. We'd go look at all the toys downstairs and then we'd go see the giant Christmas tree.
To a five year old, there wasn't anything more magical than that.
She loved Christmas. Every year, our house would be sparkling from all the different decorations. She would cook Christmas dinner and I would be amazed at how one person can make a season so magical and perfect.
She also gave me a belief in fairies.
Every year, at Christmas, I would wake up in the morning of Christmas Eve and find a beautiful princess dress hanging on the door next to mine. Nanny always told me the fairies had left it for me and I believed her with everything I had.
Not all of our traditions were at Christmas though.
Another of my favourites is that, whenever I was ill or off from school, she would make 'Make You Well Soup' - that was my childish name for it (I was probably only about three when I started calling it that). Even when I got sent home from school, my mum would drop me off with nanny and she'd have my pajamas wrapped around a hot water bottle in my bed and some soup ready for me.
She even got me a dog - Benji.
Technically, we had Annie first but she had to be re-homed as she was a Greyhound and too much for my gran to handle.
Benji was perfect. He was tiny and adorable and perfect when we first got him.
It was love at first sight with us.
I'm so grateful we got to grow up together because he was the greatest, silliest, most stupidly sweet dog anyone could ever have had.
But, unfortunately, he had to get re-homed too when my gran got even more unwell.
After that, we got Oscar.
I've said a million and one things about him so I don't think I need to expand on that but he was just as special as Benji.
The last thing I ever said to her, even a week on when I saw her in the funeral home (she looked nothing like herself. It was horrible), was 'Goodnight, nanny. I'll see you soon. I love you'
When I was younger, I always used to make her say those three words before I went to sleep.
I know it's morbid but, just in case anything ever happened, I wanted to make sure those were our final words to each other.
Reality isn't always that kind though. I can't remember her last words to me.
I know the jist of them but I don't know them exactly.
She was having a good day, her last good day before she died, and I was going on a work night out. I walked out the door and she called me back in. So I went inside and she was warning me to be careful as people can put things in your drink, etcetera. I laughed and nodded and reminded her that I'm a big girl.
After that, it's hazy.
The day before she died, I told her not to keep holding on for me. I'd be fine. She could let go now.
Not even 24 hours to that conversation and she was gone.
These last two weeks have been really strange.
I haven't cried much. I don't know why, especially seeing as I barely stopped crying to breathe after Oscar died.
Nanny was the strongest women I've ever known.
Maybe she's watching over me and helping me to be strong too.
I started college this week and I'm heading to St Andrews tomorrow for a new adventure.
Nanny's gone and, while it breaks my heart that she wont ever get to meet the man I marry or our kids, I know she'll be with us regardless.
It's all she wanted for me and I'll get it eventually.
So, when I do, she'll become my family's own, personal Guardian Angel.
If you believe in those sorts of things.
I'm not sure if I do or not but it's a nice thought.
I miss her so much but I'm so glad she's not in pain anymore.
Goodnight, nanny. I love you.
Jezebel
xoxo
