Nana

August 17, 2008 at 9:34 am Leave a comment

She passed in the early hours of the morning.  Content is what I have been telling those I have consoled.  She passed her final breath content in the comfort of her surrounds, in a peaceful, dream filled sleep.

She wanted to die at home, lying beside Georgie.  She didn’t like the hospital, I tell them.

Truth be told, I think her spirit was tired.  There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no sparkfor change, no voice willing to fight.  She was tired.

I don’t blame grandad.  We each are a product of our upbringing and genetics – a mixture of our nature and nurture.  But we have the power to deduct right from wrong even no matter the final production.  He consistently chose wrong.

I don’t blame grandad – it is his guilt he must burden.  But I damn sure hold him responsible for breaking her spirit and for dulling her flame.   Even in their old age, in their sickness and in their health, he managed to condition her to a life of taunts, manipulation and control.

I can’t blame grandad.  He stood before me crying about how he was going to take her to the hospital that day, how she hadn’t been that well and hadn’t been able to breath properly, how she had never recovered.  He stood there silently crying, a shadow of the bullying man, shorter than me, old and a little brittle.  He tells me they were going to make her a garden that week.  He starts sobbing.

My heart breaks as I watch this old man grieve so hard for his partner of almost 60 years.  Inwardly I fight to keep my thoughts quiet.  I want to shake him;  to shout “you beat her and abused her for the best part of 50 years;  you broke her bones;   you broke her skin;  YOU broke her spirit”.  My heart breaks for her.

Instead I console… She passed her final breath content in the comfort of her surrounds, in a peaceful, dream filled sleep.  She wanted to die at home, lying beside you.  She didn’t like the hospital.   She was tired,  I tell him.

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