Visiting

I got up early and did some chores, then headed to Little Ro's about 12pm. Last week we found that Great Uncle George (almost 93) was coming to the end... we saw him last August and thought he looked terrible, but he's soldiered on for another year. We had been advised to visit and say our goodbyes, at a hospital in High Wycombe. Dad, Ro and I went together (he moaned all the way there about how much he didn't want to go etc, and kept trying to be a backseat driver, which stressed Little Ro, resulting in a 'speed-smoke' as soon as we got there!). The hospital was very empty, almost abandoned, and it took us ages to find the right part, as there was no-one around to ask.

When we got to his room, I suddenly got that feeling that I didn't want to go in...Luckily Little Ro is brilliant at this sort of thing, and after five minutes of swallowing, trying not to cry and wringing my hands I ventured to his bedside. He was reasonably lucid, and we spoke to him, and stayed about an hour. I found it very upsetting. What can you say to somebody so near the end? 

My dad moaned and wanted to leave, but Rosie and I spent some time talking to him, and she helped him sip some water from a spoon and cup. He's my nanny's brother, and the last of that generation really, so it felt very sad. He asked Ro to 'hold my cold hand' which she did. I hate to see the decline in his quality of life, and hoped that it would end soon, for his sake really. 

We both found it very emotional, saying God Bless before we left, which felt a bit inadequate really. I was glad I went, and Ro was too. We drove the hour back to Little Ro's where Dad peeled off home, while I stayed for tea and a debrief. 

We told him about the baby and asked him if he thought it was a boy or a girl, and he said a girl. - from your lips to God's ears George ;-) 

On Monday afternoon we got the call to say that he died that afternoon  :-( At least it was a beautifully bright summer's day, and I hope he's now at peace.