love lessons, grief and wisdom that knows no bounds

I knew that if I didn’t finish this blog post before 2024 ended then I would really struggle to get through it. As normal I have found the start of this New Year incredibly difficult and even more so for the reasons that come in these words. I hope that they bring at least one person reading this some solace whether you’ve gone through grief or not this year, Whether you’ve gone through it twice like me both times or almost unexpectedly or whether you’ve been to it before and even acknowledged it or whether you’ve completely healed from it.

It’s hard now writing blog posts knowing my Gran won’t read them. She would always ask stumble upon them, she was subscribed. Her email account probably still is. I miss her. Every. Single. Day. Life really isn’t the same. It’s new and it’s missing her wisdom. But she left my heart so full. She never made me feel less than.

There are also many lessons from 2024 that I wish I could discuss with my Gran not having that person to discuss these things with any more has really had a massive impact on my sister and myself. We’ve begun to depend on each other even more which I can’t say is the worst thing in the world because there is no bond like two siblings, and there’s no bond at least like two sisters, but we both recognise that we can demand a lot of attention and cause a bit of destruction in our sometimes co-dependent relationship. So 2025 has to look like we are navigating a new era.

Going to Barcelona in May 2024 was the best decision we could’ve made. For each other it brought healing after our Gran‘s death, but individually it made us stronger and able to communicate our feelings away from our parents and away from outside influences. The strong Spanish sunshine was too much for us sometimes, but then so was an enormous amount of Antoni Gaudí artwork, but hey, there’s less drama when you’ve got your sister who knows your inner thoughts and feelings around.

*Into the room she comes eating white chocolate 2p coins and singing Charli XCX Talk Talk.*

It’s Saturday 15th February now, and of course the above serves as a reminder I’ll never publish as much as I write if I keep allowing myself to get distracted. Writing never was about anything more than self expression, exhuming thoughts and feelings so maybe another soul could feel seen and heard.

Next week is my Grandad’s birthday, and let’s just say I feel conflicted about it. To have had a grandparent with Alzheimer’s is hard enough on any grandchild and family, and so I won’t go as far to say that no one else can understand. But, my experience with my Grandad was so strange and wonderful and bitterly upsetting all at once for such a prolonged period of time. I feel like as an adult I never got to hear his life stories, instead I did what I could to help everyone take care of him. I tried so hard to be the best friend to him that he was to me in some flickers of moments of my childhood. The discipline of an army Grandad meant I had to ride a bike (even though I clearly couldn’t); I had to be able to skip (which eventually I got the hang of and joined the primary school skipping club); I had to be willing to stick my hands in the garden pond and make it clean again for the frogs. I had to not cry at mice; I had to know how to set the table, sit properly and only speak when spoken to; I had to be good at maths; I had to not play under certain tables. But despite all the had-tos… Grandad was teaching me how to be strong and independent. And I could never thank him for all the lessons, all I could do was take him for coffee and make him laugh and smile until it was time to go home.

I think I’ll leave it here for now.

Love,

Anna x