My grandpa recently passed away. That’s the short story. Gramps died and I’m completely broken-hearted and I don’t know what to do with myself. I guess that’s why I’m writing.
I received that dreaded phone call whilst working. Understatement of the century … he’d passed away. Early hours, alone in his hospital bed, the nurse asked if he wanted a cuppa tea he replied ” Yes please, Thank you” she came back and he had passed away.
I am heartbroken. as a family we are truly and utterly heartbroken. He was my Grandpa, Gramps. My Big G. Grumpypants. The only man in my life that told me off and I fully listened too. He is the first person I have lost… And I am so, so heartbroken. I feel completely overwhelmed with grief. Is that a thing? I feel it, like I’m drowning in it. My heart actually hurts from it. Not in a metaphorical sense, in a real, genuine, my heart is literally painfully smashing into pieces way.
I can’t picture a life without him in it. That’s a cliche and a half I know, but they’re cliches for a reason, right? I genuinely can’t see my life without him in it, I’m never going to hear his voice again.
And that’s the part I can’t wrap my head around: I’m never going to talk to him ever again. We’re never going to bicker again. Or, rather, he’s never going to always be right again. He’s never going to joke around with me about the welsh rugby or tell me off for silly things. He is never going to make the most yummiest pies again 😦
Grief is weird, huh? I’m so desperately sad at the thought of never talking to him again, more so than I can explain to you, but just remembering all those old times puts a teeny smile on my face. Because he really was an incredible man. A formidable man. He terrified me when I was a kid, especially when he put on his loud booming voice.
He had the most loveliest send off. He was such a talented caring man. He would make models out of polystyrene and wood for carnival floats. He even made a staircase out of a tree and ripped the bark off. He was so so talented. All the grandchildren had a teddy bear made out of his clothes and the red carnations, family members wore on the day of the funeral are being pressed.
I don’t know what to do, or how to deal with how I’m feeling. I can’t cope with it. I I don’t know what this feeling is. It’s too much. I’ve made endless cups of tea, tried to do some work and failed, tapped out a blog post, did a spot of yoga … nothing is working. The last conversation I had with him was to enjoy my life and do not regret anything.
Check in with your parents or grandparents tonight, peeps.
You‘re gonna kick the absolute shit outta yourself if you don’t and something goes wrong.