Borrowed Time

My grandmother died in October. She was sick, she’s been in a nursing home pretty much as long as I can remember because she had Alzheimer's. The phone rang at 3 O’Clock in the morning and what else could it be? Why else would anyone ring so late?

I wasn’t really sure what to do with this information. Do I cry? I never really knew her. But she was still my grandmother, my blood, my mum’s mum, my Pop’s wife. 

I sort of went through the motions a bit, contacting my teachers at Uni as I had to miss the last week of semester to go to Sydney for the funeral. They were all really lovely and kind, happy to allow me to reschedule things but I didn't feel quite right because I never knew her and she’s never been more than an old lady in a nursing home to me. 

I did cry at the funeral. I cried because my mum was crying and because they were saying all these things about Nana’s life that I never knew which makes me sad because she’s my Nana and I should have known her. 

Poppy asks me about my life and tell me things about his life and talks to me. I cried because we all know he was just waiting for her to go first. Maybe it’s a stupid, obvious thing to say but I’m not quite ready for him to go yet but I feel like we’re on borrowed time now. I spent an extra few days with him last time we went up to Sydney but I worry that it’s not enough. I’m afraid that this time will have been the last. 

We’re all just living on borrowed time.