I’ve had my head in the sand. Very firmly buried in the sand. It’s about time I wrench it out before I’m forced to, and that will hurt a lot more.
On Friday my Grandad passed away. It was expected, he lived a long life, he was lucky to escape the grip of lung cancer for so long, and that it didn’t drag out too much. I’m fine.
That’s what I keep saying to myself. When I let myself think about it. I’m fine. And I am. Fine.
Since Friday my days and nights have been busy, busy, busy. I didn’t dare stop in case my mind opened up that deep, dark, chasm. In case I got a flash of my last visit with him that Friday afternoon. The family all gathered around, bursts of chatter, as if it’s someone’s birthday, like perhaps we’re at a BBQ…. and then long, weighty silences, only broken by a strangled breath. It wasn’t pleasant, of course it wasn’t. But I didn’t let myself think about it. Instead I busied myself with other thoughts. I cracked jokes, I invited people to dinner, I secured my blinkers tightly, kept calm and carried on.
This isn’t just about losing Grandad. It’s about life, love, mortality. Death. This has only highlighted just how mortal we all are. How mortal my loved ones are. How real it is that one day I will have to say goodbye to some of them too. Death has made me examine life, and my relationships with the people I love. My time, and how I spend it.
On Friday we are saying goodbye properly, and I’m scared. I am happy for the peace that Grandad now has, but I am scared to face the sadness of a family mourning a loved one. My family. My mum, my nana, my brothers and sisters, my aunties, uncles, cousins. Mostly my mum. I’m really not ready for that.
So, that’s where I’ve been.