I can't get my head round it. 5 weeks ago he was on holiday with my parents. Then he started to feel off it, couple of weeks ago they had the doctor out who said it was a bug, 3 days after that they asked for a different doctor who sent him straight into hospital. Then we find out it's cancer. He was in hospital for a week and then he wanted to come home, so we all made sure one of us was with him all the time. In 3 days he went from being able to walk with his stick to his comode to needing to be carried to needing a pad. Last night he died. I just can't believe it.
When my dad phoned me last night to say he'd died, I made the 45 minute journey in 30! And I was able to hold him and kiss him and tell him I love him. It would have been his 87th birthday today. It's my son's 10th. His birthday will now always be the day after my grandad's death.
I was with him every day. We all did 'shifts' iyswim. But I didn't do yesterday, my sister did, and I feel so guilty. I wouldn't have been there when he died because it was in the night and mum and dad were the ones who slept over but the one day I didn't sit with him is the day he died.
I haven't told the kids. I can't tell them on ds2 birthday! So I've got to plaster on my happy face, sing songs and serve cakes like my grandad hasn't just died. I feel like I'm on fire in my chest.
I don't know why I'm posting, it feels somewhat attention seeking
but I am here with my happy face and me and my husband can't talk about it today because the kids are in and out and I don't want them to find me crying but I need to talk about it, have someone say "yes, I know how you're feeling. This is what happens next, this is what you do," you know?