*edit* the use of shirt sentences and the broken form of language is that I wanted to write this but it was hard and a bit too much emotionally draining to handle, I wrote it in bits as I felt able to do so. *edit*
85 years old, great grandmother and more attitude then any of the kids.
She lived caring for my mum from when she was very young and even to this day she spent more time making sure my mum was happy than anything else.
She spent her last few weeks with us as it was where she decided she wanted to be, she ate with us, played with us, even joined in with the playful abuse and insults that myself and my siblings throw around at each other.
She took a trip to France with my parents and I took her shopping for it, just to buy odd things like a scarf and a new walking cane, (hers was all dull and wooden plus it was a little long for her) the new one was red tartan and lighter, she loved it. We both made jokes about how as this one was made of metal she could easily cause someone some damage with it. We sat down in the cafe and she told me that she liked living by the seaside. That she was happy here.
We wondered down the high street and second time, me holding her hand as her legs "weren't as solid as they used to" when she grabbed my arm a and laughed telling me "no ones allowed to steal you away, you are good lad who deserves a good girl".
Few days later when booing her friends back north, she tells them her grandchildren are looking after her, no not the sprogs, Mandy's kids, the bab-bie (a title reserved for the grandchild she holds dearest) and the two university ones, "yes both go to university!" She repeated everytime she told them with the biggest grin on her face.
We take her home and have a few weeks of cautious care to make sure she was comfortable.
I return to London and am greeted with a answer phone message from the Old Girl whittering about how excited she is to go away and see the French house. I call her back and she giggles declaring "nobody ever calls me back". I speak to muggy who tells me she made her call all her friends to tell them that her "Grandson, the one who is at university!" Took her out for the day.
That was on the Friday
The following Wednesday was the next time I spoke to muggy.
She was distressed because she had to take nan to hospital and needed me to come down.
I'm there within the afternoon and she already begins to brighten up having two of her grandchildren there to talk too.
We leave her for the night and are greeted the next morning by the nurses informing her they had to call security during the night as she had attacked to members of staff with her "special tartan cane" (no clue where she had got that idea from).
Couple days later spent sat next to her in hospital the doctors decide we can take her home as they physically cannot do anything to help her. The moments bittersweet. The Old Girl looked at me not an hour before and told me I had to get her out and that I had to get her home to us. But as a family we know that by being able to bring her home, that her time isn't as long as we would want it to be.
The doctor comes in and tells the Old Girl can go home, she looks the doc dead in the eyes and says "I'm going to cut you if your lying to me."
The Old Girl is 5ft 3 and weighs just over 6 stone. But her conviction proved she wasn't messing around. I couldn't stop laughing.
Two days to two weeks realistically.
The first week she was herself, brighter, had breakfast with us, told us stories of the family and mocking contestants on TV quiz shows. But occasionally she would say something to us when we were alone with her, mum, jonesie, Bucky , muggy and Bartlett. We all had a moment, I'm only comfortable telling mine:
She held my hand and told me she was proud of me, that she thought very highly off me and that she was sorry. But also angry. Not because of what was happening but because she would never get to meet my own little ones.
I've never cried so much in my life.
The second week she was tired. My mum and muggy (who nan adored ) lead the way in caring for her, I've never been more proud if my little sister. I helped where I could, feeding her giving her water and tea. Holding her hand or helping her sort her blankets or bedding.
The final few days she stopped speaking, but smiled when she heard our voices, she would watch us in the room with her and would cuddle a teddy my mum and bought her.
She passed while cuddling my mum, with a smile on her face. Not in pain. Not suffering, peacefully.
I'll miss you Old Girl. I love you Nan
