Historically VIVID Grandmother COMPLETE #ONC 2023

6. A lesson learned

Having eaten my dinner, I went in the shower for a soak.

With the hot water beating down my back and my dark hair stuck to my forehead with the downpour of water. I started to think over all the facts I have and trying to slot the new information amid the family history I already have in my memory.

Nothing lines up, nothing.

I feel a headache coming on, so turning the taps off, I get ready to step out of the shower and grab my towel.

Once I dress in my pyjama's, I head to the kitchen to grab a big glass of water and some panadol.

I swallow two panadol with my water and head back upstairs to my childhood guest room and lay on my back staring at the roof with my faded glow-in-the-dark stars.

So much history in this house alone, not to mention the added extras like this Harold Holt mystery.

Who was my Nanna before getting married and having children?

Why is there so much that no family members know about what I'm finding.

Knowing the answers are in this house, somewhere, I know I can't give up.

I try and go to sleep knowing in advance my headache will continue in the morning.

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When I wake up, I look out of my window to see the sun shining and an absolutely glorious morning.

This is such a motivator for me. I make coffee and go to sit on the front porch to soak up the morning sun.

I close my eyes as I take a sip of my coffee, and weirdly I feel a chill right next to me that made my leg cold.

I've seen enough ghost- hunting shows to know that a massive dip in temperature usually involves a ghost.

I softly speak, hoping that it's my Nanna, "Is that you, Nanna? What is all this Harold Holt stuff? Why does it seem so mysterious."

The cold seems to swirl around me, lifting the ends of my hair and making goosebumps raise on my skin.

A mini tornado of leaves spun next to me, pushing against the security screen as if wanting to go inside.

With a deep sigh, I get up to open the security door and once it's open, the spinning leaves heads in the direction of the hallway and leads me to Nanna's bedroom.

I follow the leaves, hoping against all hope that it IS Nanna and she will help out with the mystery.

As I stand in the doorway, the leaves spin over the bed near the window and dropped to the ground.

Going around the floral-made double bed, I see the leaves are all in a big pile on only one spot.

I want to collect the leaves to keep, so I pick them up, one-by-one until I had the pile.
As I look down before walking back downstairs and outside, I notice a sliver of light coming up through the floor.

I place the leaves on Nanna's bed in order to lean down and place my fingernails around the one board with the light.

I manage to rock it side-to-side until the board came loose.I look inside and see several Manilla folders, with labelling what they are.

I see a small pile of Birth certificates stacked to the  and pull them out to have a look.

My Nanna's, My father's, Uncle Mark's and oh my goodness, Aunty Rose's.

My eyes skim over the page until I see the biggest secret I could ever find.

Aunty Rose had a different father to the others.
Hers was Harold Holt.

Immediately my mind starts to put this extra information into the puzzle.

Nanna, was given a job?
By the government, to get Harold Holt to stop his plans for the removal and/or destruction of the White Australia Policy.
This all seems so extreme.

My Nanna had to have been a part of this weird scheme to stop Harold, so why did she follow through and sleep with him, but also keep his baby.

I look through the names on the manilla folders to see one that simply says, "Accepted."

This seems intriguing.
I flip open the folder to look at the documents only to see a request - "Addy, befriend Harold."

"Addy, make Harold believe you love him."

"Addy, we need you to do this one thing we planned for, to keep him in line. Have sex with him"

"Addy, is it true you're pregnant? We need you to use this to help Harold stop his political agenda."

My mind, spinning at 100 miles per hour is struggling to imagine the young face of my Nanna, setting out to ruin some man's family and inserting her very own newborn baby, Rose, into the madness, too.

This makes me think deeper. If Aunty Rose had a different father, what does that mean for my Father and Uncle Mark?

Do any of Nanna's other children have a father that isn't Poppy Jim?
How will we ever know?
Human beings have the capability of lying.

Those who lie, usually get to a point where they believe their lies.

Is this, genetically, something I can prove now with what I have located in my Nanna's house?

I decide I'm done overwhelming myself with this information.
I slowly get to my feet and leave Nanna's room with all the new paperwork I've found in there, and head downstairs to the dining room.

My eyes slowly drift over everything I can see in the room. Vases, collectables, photographs of not only her own children, but their children and eventually, my children.

My heart gives a tight squeeze, and I find my chest swelling with emotion. A few tears roll down my cheeks as the enormity of Nanna's death truly hit me.

I sat on the floor and had a good cry.

I felt the temperature change, it gets cold. But the feeling of the cold pressing down on me, made me feel loved and safe.

"Is that you, Nanna?" I gently speak out loud.
"Or, Aunty Rose, is this you trying to have the truth set free?"

Again, a whirl of wind slow and steady seems to try and grasp every dust bunny in the room to show me what they need me to see.

The dust settles for just a moment on a framed photograph of Aunty Rose.

And much like earlier in the day, the dust began to travel upstairs.

I very slowly get to my feet, my heart aching at the idea that my Aunty Rose still lingers in my Nanna's house.

Following the dust bunny's, I end up back in my Nanna's room. The dust sliding underneath Nanna's bed.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I can see the dust swirl up and down from the floor to the undercarriage of Nanna's bed.

Feeling with my fingers, I slide them over the base of the bed only to discover a book.