My Journey with Death
I carry death with me. Wherever I go. It weighs me down and fills me with sadness that can be felt in every cell of my body, it feels as though it has latched itself to my soul. Some days, the weight might feel heavier, or lighter. But it will always be with me.
Death feels like love and longing and regret and emptiness and devastation, all mixed up together. On any given day I’m not sure which feelings will prevail.
I will carry this with me for the rest of my life, and if there is anything after this life, I will carry it with me there as well. Death has changed me.
I have now cared for both my grandparents when they were living and while they were dying. I did everything from cooking for them to cutting their nails, all the way until their deaths.
I sat with them both, holding their hands and telling them that I loved them, as they took their last breath.
My grandad died in 2021, and I still miss him every day.
My gran died almost two months ago. When I first got back from the hospital, it was dark and quite late. I was on my own. I screamed and wretched and shook and curled up in a ball on the floor. My gran was dead. The worst thing in the world had happened. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to leave me. She wasn’t ready. But she was gone. And all I wanted was for…
