This week has been another testing one, I’m not going to lie. It’s not often that life flings a whole storm of bad news your way but recently, for my family anyway, that’s what it’s felt like.
Earlier this year we lost my great-grandpa after a few months of ill health and then, just two months later, our family pet passed away at the ripe old age of 14. As a family we prayed no more sadness would come our way at least for the rest of this year but, unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the case. On Monday night we lost my great-granny – my Pop’s wife – after a long battle with dementia. As a family unit we’ve had to pull together to support one another during an experience we hoped we wouldn’t have to face for at least a little while.
The toughest moment was seeing my nana, the woman who raised me alongside my mum, lying soul-less in a bed which wasn’t her own, in a place which wasn’t her home. When Pop passed away, I explained how I spent my weekends with he and Nana at their farmhouse in Wallacestone. She was a home-bird: A city girl who’d been converted to a country lifestyle which she grew to adore. Watching Nana spend her last few weeks in a hospital bed was heart-breaking. I knew she wouldn’t have been content but not her, I, or anyone else could help that. It ripped my heart in half.
I did a bit of growing up on Monday night. My younger brother was oblivious to what had happened when he came home from football training that evening. Dad was at the hospital and Mum was distraught, so I stepped up to tell him. To lose three things you’ve grown up with in the space of four months is devastating. Euan is 16 – I can’t even begin to think how he must feel.
My Nana will be laid to rest at the beginning of November, in the grave next to Pop. I think the knowledge they’re back together once again is pulling the whole family through.