Granny Pam died this morning after a short illness. We’re all shocked and heartbroken, but at least happy that it was peaceful and relatively quick. While medical science is amazing, she was unable to continue, even with its best care and help. There’s no easy way to deal with these things for family and friends; they are just inevitable events which – fortunately – are often few and far between for most of us. It doesn’t make any of this any easier right now.
She was intensely proud of her family: of her son, her daughter, of her grandkids and of their achievements. One of the last times that we managed to get them all together yielded some wonderful photographs which will last forever and which will always be a reminder of just how happy she was when she was with her family.
I’ll miss her terribly, and at times like this, of course it’s always best to think back to the happier memories that I have of her. Picking up the kids from her place after work on a Friday evening. The regular offer of a cheap and terrible glass of red wine while they finished their dinner, which was always somehow running half an hour late. Her full-on interrogation before letting me – some Johnny Comeover – through her security gate when I came to ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage. Our often intense, but always good-natured, debates over the little things in life, like the existence of God. Her amazement that I could be so patient while trying to teach her how to use her computer. I was also amazed, if I’m honest.
We didn’t always see eye to eye, but we always respected one other. It’s so very sad that she won’t be around any more.
Lockdown wasn’t kind to Pam. She struggled with the enforced lack of freedom, and missed seeing her family as much as she would have liked to. Then, when she got sick this time, despite having fought and won several such battles in the past, it was just too much. As the sun rose and the birds started singing this morning, she quietly slipped away.
I hope she is where she wants to be.