A few weeks ago I received the inevitable but upsetting call – my grandma had passed away.
I was home alone on a Friday morning and I had no idea what to do with the news. I cried, I called a friend, I cried some more and then I just felt lost.
Because I couldn’t do anything. I was too far away to help my parents out, provide support or attend the funeral. The last time I saw her was 18 months ago. She was in relatively good spirits until the end, though had definitely been on a bit of a downward spiral in the last months. I felt better knowing that she hadn’t been too uncomfortable, had died peacefully in her sleep, and was probably more than ready to let go.