Never Forgotten

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 10, 2016

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Submitted: September 10, 2016

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My Gran was one of them people that you thought was extraordinary. She wasn't like an ordinary Gran, she was weird, quirky, and downright obsessed with using all these skin products and buying makeup ( I guess I got that trait from her.) 

One Christmas she got, shall we say a tad drunk, and burnt the Christmas dinner (Even the dog wouldn't eat the food!) She would always spoil us rotten, filling the living room with hundreds of presents, and we would all have a laugh and watch some of the classic Christmas TV. Part of me feels like she is the one who made Christmas in our family. She had a thing for Mrs Browns Boys,and we would end up putting that on, and even if you didn't find it funny, how hard she laughed at it brought a smile to your face. Much to my mums dismay, my Gran had a thing for Michael Buble, and she got me and my sister into his music, so my mum would have to sit suffering while we played his album on repeat. 

She loved her baking, she baked for my uncles coffee shop for years, and literally it was some of the best stuff I have ever tasted. She always kept herself busy, and if she dared even come close to giving out our family recipes to her friends, me and my sister went off our heads. 

She was just so young for her age, one of the most beautiful, nicest people I knew. She wasn't someone you would ever imagine to get ill. I guess when she started to get ill I ignored it, I was good at doing that to problems in my life.

She developed cancer and when I heard the news, I wasn't upset like my mum or sister, I just didn't really feel much. I know that is bad, but I guess I felt it wasn't real. I hadn't experienced anything like this, and I didn't really know how to act. 

Every Friday has officially been "Gran day" in my family, we would either go to hers for dinner, or her and her partner would come to ours. I would sit and talk to them, but then usually halfway through the evening I would plug my earphones in and tune myself out to the world. Some Fridays though I was working or away out with friends, so I saw less and less of her. Over time as she was getting her chemo she lost her hair, and when I saw her like that it came as quite a shock. I don't know if that is the moment it started to sink in to me, that this was real and not just some stupid story. 

More time passed and the chemo began to help her and she seemed more herself. Yes my family was still worried, but we began to settle and we were more relaxed with her, because she was getting better, and this was the person who was above all else, strong. I began to not be able to make every Friday dinner, because work usually kept me busy. Then one Friday I was off, my mum and my Grans partner were going to pick up dinner and I was to make my way to my Grans house to meet them. I had been warned that as of recently she had gotten a bit scattered, and her mind was a tad confused, but I wasn't expecting what I walked into. 

I entered the house, and saw her in the bedroom so I walked through. I tried having a conversation with her, but she wasn't herself at all, she seemed, the only word I can use to describe it properly is off. She did manage to tell me that the doctor had been shortly before I got there, and had phoned an ambulance for her, as she didn't think my Gran was right. The ambulance got here and the next thing I knew I was in the back of it with my Gran. My mind was scrambled and I didn't know what to think, I started to panic. I had expected a nice wee evening with my family, and instead I was thrown into this nightmare. 

Shortly after arriving at the hospital, my mum and my Grans partner arrived and we sat patiently in the waiting room, waiting to see what would happen next. We got called through and we sat with my Gran for hours. We had no idea what was wrong with her, we thought maybe a urine infection because she had all the symptoms. Days passed and we eventually found out what was wrong with her.

Her cancer had returned, but this time it had spread to her brain. They told us there was nothing they could do. I didn't believe them, I still thought that she would get out of that horrible place. Every time I went to visit her I hated it, I hated seeing her lying in that bed, being so helpless, when I remembered her being so strong. She didn't get ill and it just wasn't fair, it never is. The reality of the situation never sunk into my head, I still had the illusion that we could take her home, and continue our day to day life as usual. Visiting time was over and she gave me a massive hug and I told her I loved her, and then I left.

Days past before I could visit her again, but the scene that was brought upon me was very different than before. Before, she was sitting up and talking to us, even if it was kind of brief. When I walked into the room, it was silent, she was lying with her eyes closed on her bed, she just looked like she was taking a nap, but I was told she wouldn't wake up. The illness had consumed her, and she was in a coma like state. I sat next to the bed for hours, talking to her, holding her hand, just expecting her eyes to open, or her to speak to me one more time.This is when reality sunk in. This wasn't some TV show or movie where there's cases when the patient miraculously recovers, this was real, and this was it. 

That was the last time I saw her, after that I went home alone, and my mum stayed at the hospital so my Gran wasn't left by herself. Part of me is glad I didn't go back, because I knew as much as I wished it, I wasn't going to hear her speak again, there was no miracle. I stayed at home, and I tried to distract myself from the truth, but in the back of my mind I knew she was still lying there. A few days passed and my mum came home with the news, she had passed away.

This happened a few months ago, and I am only able to write this now. Still to this day, I expect to see her on Fridays, it still doesn't feel real, but I need to accept that it is. At the time I hadn't ever properly experienced a death in my family, and I didn't really know what to do, I didn't really know what to feel. The truth has sunk in, and I realize it is something you can never recover from.  

I regret not spending more time with her or even being with her every Friday that I was able too. I regret not being able to remember the last thing she said to me. When I took her to that hospital, not in my wildest dreams did I think she wouldn't leave that place. In my head, I had this fantasy that I expected to play out. I expected for her to get better, and I had sworn to myself I would spend more time with her, and everything would go back to normal. Miracles don't always happen. You have to be thankful for the family and friends you have surrounding you. You have to appreciate what you have, because you don't know when it is going to be cruelly snatched away from you. You have to not look back, and think "what if?" 

I loved her, and I always will. 

You will always be in my heart.

Rest In Peace.


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