I want to preface this post by saying it does discuss some heavier stuff than usual on my blog. As I will explain later on in the post, I have been failing to find the words to write some of this for quite a while, therefore I'm sorry if it's a bit rambly and all over the place.
Hi! It's been a while, how've you been?
Obviously I can't hear what you're saying right now, but I still hope at least your day is going well.
As you may or may not have noticed (probably not cause who the fuck actually checks this blog regularly), I haven't posted anything in about half a year. Life just kind of happened without me really being ready for it. I'm still not entirely sure how much I want to share on here, but it feels like I won't be able to get past it. I want to get back to actually posting on here, but every time I open up my editor to write something for this blog, I am reminded that I still haven't finished a set of drafted posts, that have been burning a hole into my mind for quite a while now.
Three damned drafts, that have been stopping me dead in my tracks every time I want to add something to this site. I could be as calm as I could possibly be and as soon as I try to continue them, I just can't. My mind turns from a calm river into a raging torrent that engulfs my every attempt to stay afloat to breathe. It feels as if all the contemplation I did, just gets washed away in an instant. All the things I had wanted to say simply disappear and all that's left is an uncontrolable, melancholic sadness.
I will briefly try and summarise each post and give some context around them. By trying to constrain myself from delving too deep into the details of each post, I want to avoid falling into this emotional turmoil again. My aim is to merely provide some context around each.
The first drafted post was initially started in early 2024. After more than 20 years, my grandma's cancer had returned and she would once again have to go on chemotherapy. My grandparents have always been a constant for me, this sort of immutable foundation, which has formed me how I am today. Every minute I was able to spend with them gave me hope. It convinced me that even in bleak situations, there is always the option of taking a step back, assessing the situation at hand, and trying to make the best of it. They were always there for me. So, when this information reached me, it had caught me completely off-guard. I knew that they had quite a few years under their belts and that life was finite. I knew that I wouldn't always be able to call / be called by my nan at least once a week. I knew that my grandparents both had medical issues given their advanced age. And yet, I don't think I truly comprehended it.
Because of this it was extremely important to me to spend as much time as I could with them that year. It's not like I hadn't done so before. It was always a joy to spend time with them and slow down for a while. Even after a major operation I had in March of 2024, as soon as I recovered enough, we jumped into my mum's car and we drove up to them to spend easter with them.
The second drafted post I decided to begin writing a few days after my nan had passed away during the summer. Sitting in my bed with nothing to do, but process what had happened. This wonderful person, whose humor is imprinted onto my soul, whose calm and collected demeanour formed who I am, had left this world. And yet, it keeps turning relentlessly, cold and uncaring. The exact opposite of how my grandma was. If I can keep but a mere fraction of her character alive, I won't ever falter and let go of hope.
At first my grandad seemed to be in a seemingly normal process of grieving for someone he had loved and lived with for 60+ years. It was completely understandable. Then as the time went by his health rapidly deteriorated. Even though he always seemed like someone who could weather any storm, he became more and more resigned. Without going into too much detail, his body had taken quite a lot throughout the years. It was a wonder how he and grandma were able to run the household. He was more than 90 years old and still went down to their garden daily, to get what they needed to cook and maintain it with nigh immaculate care. You could ask him just about anything about all the plants he looked after. His wealth of knowledge on such a vast quantity of topics always seemed boundless to me. And yet, it seemed like the solitude he experienced after my nan's passing was something even he, someone who had always seemed like the incarnation of mental fortitude, could not keep in check. Something in his eyes changed, I still can't find the words to describe what it was, but they just seemed more... vacant. As if he was ready to go on, whatever the next segment of this path life had set him upon was may have been.
During one of the last times I visited him in the hospital, my mum had gone out of the room for a few minutes to talk with the doctors and we were just sitting on his bed together. Looking out the window at the mountains, drenched in early-autumn afternoon sunlight. We just sat there, exchanging a few words every now and then, but most importantly, enjoying this small moment we had together. After a short period of silence, he just said; "I'm ready to see her again. I am looking forward to it.". Those few words. The confident feeling of resolution in his voice. It broke me.
A few weeks later, it was his birthday so we drove up to him to visit. He had caught Covid-19 a few days before and was therefore in a smaller dedicated room. He didn't talk. I don't know if he was unable to or just couldn't muster the strength anymore. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his body seemingly struggling to maintain the energy required to stay awake. After a chat with the head doctor, informing us that it was looking quite bad and letting us know that "both him and his body aren't accepting the medications we are able to give him anymore", we went into his room. Even though we were in personal protective equipment, I sat down next to him on the bed and he looked me in the eyes for a few seconds. It seemed like he was happy to see us all and that no matter the situation, we came to visit on the occasion. We stayed for around 30 or so minutes, after which it seemed like he dozed off more often than not, so we decided to let him rest.
As we sat in the car, I tried to ready myself for what I knew was inevitable. That night I tried to distract myself as best as I could, knowing that, if I were to give in to the veritable mountain of emotions I had pushed aside to deal with the situation in the moment, it would've likely consumed me. Not having slept very well the nights before, I slept quite soundly once I actually managed to doze off. I hadn't had a good night sleep in quite a bit, and even though I woke up feeling quite refreshed and in a decent mood, everything came to an abrupt halt when my mum called me. He fell asleep peacefully in the hospital, in the night after we had visited him.
I started "writing" the third and final draft post around two weeks after my grandad had passed. The last drafted post didn't even really get anywhere. Even after fourteen days of being able to reconcile my emotions, my mind was still just as chaotic as it was an hour after my mum had told me. It was an incoherent stream of thoughts and the more I tried to bring form into it, the less it made any sense to read.
It still felt like I needed to put into words what has been going on in my head. And yet, because of the pain I felt every time I tried to finish those drafts, I felt like it was better to give it time.
My grandparents were two of the most amazing people to ever exist. Nan always used to say "I won't be around forever, and when I'm gone I hope you remember all the stupid stuff we did". Usually I'd retort with something along the lines of "I know that and I'll try, but you better stick around for a damn long time". I try my damn best to live up to what I promised them back then. To do the best I can every day and try to build a life that can't be shaken up too much. And yet, even now, even a nearly a year after, this wound has only healed partially. I could spend hours talking about all the fun and sometimes stupid (but still very fun) things we did together. The actual, honest-to-god chicanery we got up to. The days we spent at the public swimming pool, visiting relatives, going up into the mountains to forage mushrooms and build tiny huts out of sticks, rocks and leaves. The almost baffling amount of time we spent playing board-games on the table out in front of their house. The funny little in-jokes that had accumulated throughout the years. Everything. I am beyond thankful for all the time and love they gave me. I couldn't have become who I am without them. And if it ever comes to it, I'll be sure to tell my kids all about the silly things we did together. Take them up to the wonderful little spots they've shown me. Teach them to see the beauty in nature the same way they taught me. Help them throughout difficult times the way they did for me. Do some stupid shit together at the chance of trouble the way we did.
I am not all-too-religious and neither were my grandparents, and yet, I can't help, but keep a smidgen of hope in my heart, to one day in the distant future, see them again.
Thank you, nan. Thank you, grandad. For everything.
That is the main reason why I haven't written much else. Alongside everything that happened last year, I have also been keeping myself busy with a significant amount of stuff at work and time spent traveling back and forth between my place and visiting my fiancé in the UK. The few posts I made last October and November were mostly already written or I had an existing outline of what I wanted to write in my head. I hope that, now I've finally managed to finalise a post about all of this, I can bring myself back to writing something at least once a month. Because I do like writing stuff on here. It's just this small outlet where I can shout into the void without any significant repercussions. Over the summer I think I'll try and post more of the stuff I do. Sorry again for this being a bit of a downer maybe to read, but this way, I can delete the old drafts and try to "move on" (as much as I despise the concept, but that's a separate post). That's pretty much it for this post though, so I'll wrap it up now.
See ya soon.