2yrs on......

Dear Nan,

Two years ago today, a chain reaction of events started that ultimately saw you leave this life behind. This time two years ago, you had suffered an aneurism at the base of your brain stem. You had gotten up as any other normal morning, began getting Krystal ready for school, put her drink bottle in the freezer and your headache hit. Hard. Fast. Strong. Painful.

A shower did nothing to relieve it. I wonder if you knew "this was it". I wonder if you had a thousand thoughts run through your head of things you hadn't yet done, things you hadn't yet said and thoughts you were yet to have and I wonder if you knew what was happening. By the time the ambulance arrived at your house, you were already unconscious.

I remember Mum ringing me that morning "We think Nan's had a stroke, I'll call you once we know more, go to work, I'll call you" I remember having my phone on me at work and getting a call and all I could hear was shuffling, a zipper, so I hung up. Seconds later it rang again, it was Mum, "She's not going to wake up Cez, Mum won't wake up" With that I left surrounded by a group of colleagues all concerned I shouldn't drive.

I arrived at Westmead Hospital in record time to find Pop and Mum in with a grief counsellor. Leah arrived at the same time as I did. This is when we were told the news....

"Your Nan has had a major aneurism. We have her currently sedated on a breathing machine. Now there are lots of tubes, don't be alarmed, they are helping her breathe right now." They didn't need to say breathing machine, we all knew it was life support. I suppose they didn't want to seem heartless and use abrasive words. Breathing machine somehow sounds gentler than life support I guess.

You didn't look sick. You looked pissed off if anything!! I still have a small giggle at that. Your forehead was red like it gets when you were cranky telling off one of us grandkids when we were small. I figured you had a bingo game on that morning that now you'd have to miss. ("of all the nerve!" I hear you say!)

I don't think I quite accepted the possibility of you not waking up, or the severity of what we were facing, until I saw you that morning. Then it hit, and hard.

My nan was going to die. I'd just lost a baby 2weeks beforehand, could my life get any worse?

Each time someone went in to speak with you and hold your hand, we'd notice things on your face. A lip tremble, a tear escaping your eye, a flicker in the fingertips. Were we imagining these things? They say people who are unconscious can still hear, so we all spoke to you as if you were wide awake.

Once the Doctor's had established that nothing could be done to save you, or release the pressure from the aneurism, you were moved to a ward room where we waited for the rest of family. During the day we all took turns of sitting with you, stroking your hair, your hands, your face and talking to you.

You received lots of comments from the nurses about your skin, "she has such soft skin, she doesnt' look 67, I'd have said 50 at the most." You were too young to be lying in that bed, you still had so many plans and much to live for.

I don't remember what time your life support was turned off, somewhere around 9pm I think. You held on as best you could breathing on your own for 45minutes and then you took your last breath. We were all by your bedside, at Pop's request, when you took that breath. We watched you struggle for each breath in your last attempt to hang on. I know you gave it all you had to pull through, even if the odds were stacked so highly against you. You still let us know "hey I'm trying not to leave!"

After that final breath, the room fell silent. And then all you could hear was our hearts breaking and the tears flowing.

And here we are now 2yrs later, feeling like it was a lifetime ago aswell as only a week ago. So much has happened since you passed. You have a new great grandson, and a new grandson, both of which we all wish you could see. You'd have been in all your glory being able to show them off.

Both my girls still often talk about you, ask questions and remember times spent wth you. I'm sad that Ethan won't know you in that sense. But he will know you through our hearts and our memories of you.

We're all heading out to your house today. Everyone will be there not only to remember you but also for Krystal's birthday. Yes I know, I can hear you, "it was her birthday a week ago" and not really a great day to 'celebrate' is it?

I know you're still around sometimes, I will have random thoughts and hear your voice, have the urge that I need to ring you for something, and dream of you in a way I know is you saying that you're ok.

Two years on; you're still missed and loved, cherished and thought of, for now, for ever, for always.

RIP Nan. We love you.
9.11.38 - 17.2.06