We’ll cross that bridge tomorrow
Tomorrow finally came, and my grandmother passed away early this morning, succumbing to her battle with lung cancer. So far I’m feeling relatively ok. Although it’s partly denial, a large part is also due to the fact that I’ve been preparing for this moment for a very long time.
When I was a child, my grandma was this frail, timid, Guinness Stout drinker who smoked about a pack of Benson & Hedges a day. I grew up with the expectation that she’d eventually fall prey to some form of lifestyle related disease.
I carried this expectation with me year after year, watching as she got frailer every year. After a mini-health scare some years ago, she finally gave up smoking and drinking, and before I knew it, my Grandma had miraculously defied the inevitable and had made it past her 80th birthday, albeit with one lung (the other one having been removed as part of the cancer treatment).
Right now I’m just glad that her suffering is finally over and she’s free from her cancer. As I was sitting by her bedside last night, I kind of guessed the end was near because she seemed to have trouble breathing. I felt a bit sad that she would not live to see her great grandchild Clare.
But I actually expected her to last till the next day, and decided to go home and come back the next night. It was a bit of a shock when my sister called up at about 2.45am to say that she had passed away.