Peaceful

My Grandpa, who is 87, is very ill. He’s been in hospital since autumn, and for the last couple of days he’s been unconscious. Granny and Mum are with him. Mum's been in touch regularly and says he's "peaceful".

Everyone seems to think it’s just a matter of waiting now. I will go over in the morning, whatever happens.

He’s been unable to get out of bed by himself for months now, and he’s been increasingly confused and not himself. So… but… it’s really hard to think about. He has been a big presence all our lives: my grandparents live nearby and we’ve always seen them a lot.

Last time I saw Grandpa, he was fairly lucid and asking about my new job, and saying that we’d cheered him up by coming to see him (which is unusually gracious, for him, but would you be gracious if you were in pain and unable to get up and apparently surrounded by idiots who wouldn’t let you go home?) Which is something, I suppose.

Poor Mum and poor Granny.

I can’t talk about this any more at the moment.

Last Saturday. That was a good day. It was sunny and warm and I planted a lot of nice things in the garden, as well as the seeds for our vegetable plot. J helped and mowed the grass. Later I made a cake. It was a good cake.

Answers to kind comments on my rather trivial previous entry below. Thanks, people.