Gran flew out of the cuckoo's nest

'I'm blind. Well, I'm partially blind. Ooh, David Coulthard!'

Six years after entering her nursing home, two years after losing my Grandpa and too much time spent playing extra time, my Gran finally won her penalty shoot out.

Three weeks after she finally got her wish, today was a day for the family to get together and reminisce following an emotional hour in St Peter's, hearing some anecdotes and failing to sing along to the hymns as the words were blurred by tears.

There's a strong emotional reaction when you suddenly realise you're one generation closer to the top. And a stronger realisation that when you get there and it's time for you to hand over the reins then you want to do it quickly. Goodbyes should be swift and sharp and not drawn out, seemingly endlessly.

So today, Grandma finally has her peace. This is something of a comfort - 'it's what she would have wanted' - but doesn't make it that much easier. In time it will. But not today.

So, as I get ready for a celebration with family who I rarely see, I will remember Grandma as the adopted Irish girl whose eyes sparkled until the end, who was blind, well partially blind, ooh its David Coulthard.

Thanks, Grandma. We miss you.