I was thinking today about my old Grandad who passed away 6 weeks ago. My sister had pulled out of the cupboard a couple of camcorder films of him taken in the last 10 years, and before now I felt it was way too soon to watch them but felt that now I'd be ok now. We sat there for a bit, finger hovering over the play button.....Go on I said play it, lets see him again. So on it went, shaky camcorder images. Of course we both sat there, watching, listening and laughing (uncomfortably....is that a strange word to use?) at the funny things he was saying on film, so full of life and just him.
My sister started first, then me. It was painful. Tears. Lots of tears. Where's he gone? Why isn't he here? What happened to the old bugger? It reminded me of strange things that I do now. When I'm at work checking patients wristbands before giving them there medication, we have to ask them for their date of birth. My grandad was born in 1926, so when someone born before that year says 1924, or 1920 etc....I keep thinking well why are you still here, and he's not........God that sounds awful, I don't begrudge them that!...... Its just that, It doesn't seem "right" in my mind. (I sound crazy now)
Anyway, I keep beating myself up about the fact that the day before he died, I was out with my mates in a pub having a laugh and a few beers. Why couldn't I just have called him that night? Just to chat and thrash a few things out with him, put the world to rights one last time (he loved that) I'll never go in that pub again, I hate even driving past it. I'm trying to let go, I want to let go, but I can't let go.
I told my sister to switch the film off, but told her to keep it really safe. I'm sure in the future, when emotions and feelings have subsided a bit, For us, and more importantly my mum and nan, it will become a treasure, that we'll want to watch again and again.......but just not now.
Letting go is bloody difficult.