The Waiting Room of Death

I've been in the Waiting room of Death for so long, but that does not ease the pain that permeates through my body, confounded by the shame I feel about the words I wrote only a week ago:

'I struggle to think these words, let alone write them; I want my grandma to die' 

My grandma truly is the best. Of course my opinion is bias but here is a 96 year old woman who has been a stalwart of brilliance and love for my entire life. For the last few years she has deteriorated suddenly, and the vibrant woman I knew changed dramatically. When family pictures and declarations of love no longer brought a smile to her face, knowing I couldn't alleviate her sadness, I gave up my selfish desire to have her with me forever and wrote down the above words. Yesterday evening my beautiful grandma died and I so desperately want to take back those thoughts. I always dreamed of gran living to 100 and told her numerous times! I grieve the husband she will never meet, the children she won't cuddle and the cakes she can't bake in my first home. I realise this is possibly over sentimental grief talking and it was probably unrealistic for my children to meet gran (after all I never knew my great grandma) but this doesn't negate the intense sense of loss now.




I first realised my gran was not immortal when she had a fall and spent some time in hospital. It was like the second there was a crack in the armour of Gran's strength, she was very quickly a vulnerable old lady. She soon got back into her home and I papered over my concerns for Gran's instability, but by the time she was next hospitalised I realised the precipice she was on. Looking at this tiny little lady engulfed by her functional NHS bed telling me she wanted to die, I knew I was waiting...






The last 2 years have seen two of my good friends parents die and recently my mum had an emergency operation, all adding to this sudden feeling of imminent morbidity. When I sat at the hospital waiting for mum, I cried, not because she was in immediate danger, but somehow being in this clinical backdrop with her brought me one step closer to the same feelings of fear and pain I experienced with gran in her hospital room. Such a different situation but my loved ones' fragility is etched on my heart.

The penultimate time I visited my gran in her dull but conscientious care home I was dismayed by the lack of stimulus for the elderly patients, the stagnant environment was literally a waiting room of death. As comes naturally in my vaguely idiotic nature, I did a little dance with Gran's walking stick and everyones eyes lit up. My dance and subsequent medley of songs were in no way impressive, but a little bit of young blood and energy seemed to make the world of difference and break the bland monotony of care home life. I later chanced upon an article about German 'multigenerational houses' which seem an inspiring concept to me. Gran had lived on her own for a long time before spending a year in a care home, and I can't help but wish that her wise but frustrated body and mind could have been revived by a daily injection of youth. 

Elizabeth Margaret Downie nee Kirkham lived a wonderful life. Known to her friends as Betty, she worked tirelessly to create a great life for her family. She built (yes built!) the house I have always considered my family home and instilled in me a great sense of strength as a woman. Today was her funeral and I have been able to say a final farewell to my beloved grandma. I was reminded of her immense skills as a seamstress, cook and baker extraordinaire and most of all a carer at her core with green fingers! She was an inspiration to so many people and this was apparent in the smiling faces I shared stories with today. The heart-warming service and colourful clothing (gran didn't want all black) has celebrated an exceptional woman and reminded me to cherish my family all the more. Forever an inspiration.

Born at Feckenham 21st September 1918
Died at Studley 1st November 2014

Rest in Peace granny xxx