Vale Nana Pam (Aug 3, 1935 - April 24, 2009)

I was 17 the last time someone in my family died. That was my Papa Ron, who passed away on the bowling green courtesy of a concurrent heart attack and stroke. He died doing what he loved, Dad said. Papa Ron was an archetypal dirty old man, a raconteur full of stories, jokes and alcohol.

His wife, my Nana Pam, died today up in Queensland, three days after she joined Facebook. The last time I saw her was in October 2007, when I was up on the Sunshine Coast for my cousin Josie's birthday. We visited her at the nursing home, checked out her sweet laptop set-up and kick-arse electric wheelchair, then went out for lunch.

Before that, the last time I spoke to her was in late 2005, when I was living alone in Gwynneville. She gave me some advice during a period of personal upheaval, and told me to give her love to Liv, who I'd mentioned once by name, near the beginning of the phonecall.

Before that, I can't remember exactly - but our interactions were usually via MSN Messenger, since she'd taken a computer course, set herself up with a PC and entered the 21st century...earning her the name "Computer Nana" from Marnie (to differentiate her from Nana Jean).

She'd always keep me informed as to what my cousins were up to, and it always seemed like exciting and wonderful stuff. She was obviously very proud of her descendants.

I didn't see Nana Pam a lot as an adult, and possibly even less as a teenager. She and Papa moved to Sanctuary Point in the early 90s, which is where she made lots of pikelets - as well as my flouro-orange-fur Year 12 formal suit. She'd previously taught me to knit, so that she and I could put together a long, multi-coloured scarf for me to attend a primary school Book Character Parade as The Doctor.

When I was a kid, I was at their place in Mangerton a fair bit. It was just up the road from my school, so I'd walk up at 3 o'clock. Usually to have a Bulla ice-block - but also sometimes to have a bee-sting removed or to throw up after being in sick bay. In summer, she'd pick me up from Coniston to go swimming at Bede and Gwen's place.

Nana Pam taught me how to cook, let me play with food colouring and water, gave me cups of frozen peas to eat, kept my drawings and stories, introduced me to Ghostbusters and Back To The Future, and always kept me, Lee and our cousins rolling in Smarties, snakes and jelly babies. She also once smacked me for spitting in the margarine container. But that totally wasn't my fault.

But my favourite Nana Pam moment was when I told her my story about walking through the canteen area at school in just my undies for $35. I thought it was a pretty impressive story, and wondered what her reaction would be.

It was, "Did you have a boner?"

That's my Nana Pam. So it goes.