The rest of forever...

By DrMac

Halt, who goes there?

The last few days have been a bit of a blur. From getting the phone call on Wednesday afternoon, the rush from school to home, getting packed and flying out the door and over to Stourport. I managed to arrive just after six and had a couple of hours alone with Grandad. The carers were amazing - taking care of him so well and looking after me too. I was shocked at how tiny and frail he had become in such a short space of time. He couldn't communicate with me but it was clear from the way he responded that he could hear us. So, I spent a couple of hours talking to him...I read him The Times, including the football results and the gossip on Kate and William's baby. I told him about Paul's job, what our three big kids are up to and what has been happening in my life.

And then I started to reminisce...the days in my childhood that I remember spending with him and Nan. The archery target, the cream thrown on the curtains, his white vests, the black bike, the swinging seat, Fox's Glacier Mints and the car steering wheel with the furry cover. I blethered on and I probably bored him senseless, but sitting with him, stroking his hair and nattering away seemed like the right thing to do. Mum and Dad arrived a few hours later and the carers encouraged me to get the girls out of the car. I fed them in the Dining Room, amongst some rather dappy elderly ladies who giggled a lot, and then they came up to the top floor to his room. Pippa laid on my knee, paws resting on his bed and chin on her paws - just watching him. Grandad's breathing was steady, he wasn't in any pain. Eventually, around 11pm, it was time to depart to the accommodation. An emotional goodbye - part of me hoped that the next day he would still be there...yet part of me hoped that, for his sake, he wouldn't.

He wasn't.

I know I always write for you but this blip is for me, for my memories. The most important part for me to remember is that he passed away in the manner he would have wanted. At 94 he said that he had enjoyed his life but felt like it was time to say goodbye. He never wanted to be frail or in any discomfort. And he wasn't. He gently slipped away just before dawn.

I hadn't considered how it might feel to see someone you love in the last few hours of their life. It shocked me more than I can explain. It has made me think a lot about life and death. And it has certainly helped me to appreciate how much pain and anguish others experience when they lose someone they love.

It has rained all day today. Actually, it has rained since he died. It's time for some finer weather please.

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