Thursday, August 26, 2010
Today I found myself in the strange position of talking with my Grandad about his funeral wishes. He is living with lung cancer, but he most likely will not be living for much longer. As 78 year old Englishman, he is not one for fuss and bother, and doesn’t like a lot of attention drawn to himself. When asked how he’s feeling, he replies, “oh, not bad, thank you very much”, when clearly he is struggling for breath.
As Pebble crawled around the lounge room floor, Grandad shared his wishes for his farewell with my Nana, my mum and myself. It was strange to sit talking about his death as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Which I suppose it is. It was stranger still to be talking with him about what my Nana should do for herself once he is gone. Only once did the strain show, as his voice cracked when he shared the three songs he’d like at the funeral service.
I tried to be very grown up and sensible, and held my wavering emotions together. Everyone else was talking calmly, there was no need for tears and nonsense. You can be sure, though, that there will be more than a tear shed when it comes time to say goodbye for good.