Someone press the pause button

Pause the world, I need some time without it needing me to function. Since Grandad entered Florence Nightingale Hospice three weeks ago, we have been expecting him to pass away any day. He defied medical reason and kept trying to respond to us until his last breath. Why has his death hit me like a tornado? Why am I not strong like I thought I would be? Why do I just want to curl up into a ball and cry?

Reasoning isn’t working. I know he’s free from pain now.  It’s not taking the pain away. I know deep down, from the chain of events, it was Nanny Bean who came down for him. There can be no other explaination for the timing.   for the wedding ring box at the top of my sister drawer. For my Nan’s musical box at the top of my drawer. For Grandad slipping away when mum nipped to the toilet and Uncle Tom, Aunty Margaret and I walking into the hospice. I can almost hear her saying “Come on George, quickly, you’ve got to come now”. She knew everyone was on their way and the ones who could cope, were in the room with him. Why can’t I stop my tears from flowing?

Driving home on Thursday afternoon was tough. It was 70 years since the end of WW2. Radio 2 were marking VE Day with a two minute silence. The song leading up to the silence was Fragile by Sting. Although this song is about the needless deaths from violence and war, it felt so final for me. My tears were flowing like rain and had been since I got behind the wheel. The two minute silence was almost too much. The road became a blur!

Sat beside me in the car were Grandad’s pjs… Like I say, I thought I would be the strong one. The washing wasn’t difficult, tipped them straight in the hole by turning the carrier bag inside out. Quickly placing them in the tumble dryer, was a little harder and now I cannot face getting them out and ironing them before returning them to Florence Nightingale Hospice. I keep spying them through the glass and it makes me want to scream out….  I will do it.

Every second which passes makes me feel further away from him. I found a poem…

I sat with you today

I know I’ve got to hold it together. Today I managed to hide behind my mirrored Raybans to watch Z drive a mustang car around Rockingham race track. I somehow managed to hide my ever flowing tears from them.

Tomorrow my running training programme says I need to run 6 miles. I don’t know if I will manage 100 metres right now. Maybe Grandad will hold one hand and Nanny Bean the other…

Some how I need to find a brave mask to get through my mother in law’s birthday dinner….

Some how I need to find the support to get Z through his two GCSE exams this week….

Some how I need to find the courage to design Grandad a fitting order of service for his funeral….

The world doesn’t stop! (but please don’t try to speak to me, the words are likely to get stuck)

Grandad had a wonderful life. He had 84 full years. A life to give thanks for.

How much harder must the grief be for Andrew and Sally Hall or my friends Pete and Rach, who lost their two eldest daughters? I can’t imagine their pain. That is why my running trainers will go on my feet tomorrow. That is why I will run the 6 miles on my training programme. Cancer is a cruel illness. It’s stolen my grandad. It stole my Nanny 29 years ago. It’s attacked my beautiful friend Kiran (twice) and my lovely Aunty. It’s stolen wise and wonderful Skye Hall. There needs to be better research, better recording of side effects, better treatments. None of it will happen by standing still.

Sleep tight Grandad and please run with me in the morning.  I’m going to need your help.  #thisgirlcan

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