Two weeks too late
Last week (23rd October 2012) my granddad passed away three months after being diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He was so strong, never ill in all the time I’ve known him; all my life. He was so independent, it was so awful to watch him go into hospital, looking smaller and sicker each day. I had to leave for university in September and I visited him in hospital the day before I left. I didn’t want to believe that it could be the last time I saw him so I said a quick goodbye and didn’t look back. The doctors told my family he would leave hospital a couple of days after I left. He didn’t ever leave. When I spoke to him on the phone for the last time he could barely talk. When my dad rang to tell me granddad had died it didn’t feel real and I’ve spent the last couple of days laughing and joking like normal.
Today it’s suddenly hit me hard and I start to cry whenever I think about him which is pretty frequent. I remember him looking after my sister and me when we were little, his house was like our second home. I remember his last ever Christmas, the fun we all had on his last birthday. It’s his funeral in a couple of days and I don’t know how to get through it. I don’t want to say goodbye yet, he died way too soon. I feel so guilty I wasn’t there to say a proper goodbye or just after he died to support my family. I can’t believe I didn’t say a proper goodbye when I had the chance to. The worst thing was I was going home to see him on the 6th November. Only two weeks to go.