The End of Something

The passing of a generation marks a moment in our lives when memory and values pass out of existence.  A moment when newer, younger ideas and concepts take over, or are the only ones left to rely on.  No death is ever expected, even if it has been building for a time.  It makes you think about all that is good about life.

Death also makes you think about your own reality and mortality.  One day it will come to us all.

It has been 8 years since I lost my maternal Grandfather.  A man to whom I looked up to respected a great deal.  My mother misses him the most.  They were very close, and by extension so was I.  He had a sense of humour that was unique, but which I only realised after he had gone.  He was very intelligent, and had a world of experience, all of which he was willing to share.  It was 6 days until my 20^th birthday when he died, and I feel his loss even to this day.

My Grandmother has lived on (she was 90 earlier this year), and outliving her sister.  Her mind has been in a dark place for longer than I care to remember (Dementia is a horrible thing), but she has provided comfort and continuity to our family during the years that my Grandfather has been gone.  Families revolve around a Matriarch and despite her fragile body and “moment-specific” mind, my Grandmother has provided that sense of unity: a reason to stay in touch.

Her increasing fragility and rapidly declining health have been an issue of discussion between my mother, my Uncle, and me for some time.  The decisions we have made, as I have pointed out, have been purely for our benefit, not hers.  She wouldn’t know any different.  She doesn’t know where she is, who she is, who we are, etc.  She lives in the moment.  Anything before or after is non-existent and inconsequential to her.  It makes me wonder about how humans in general live their lives.  Surely her way is better in a sense?

As my Grandmother now begins to slip away, I am observing my mother’s pain and grief at losing her connection to her past; losing the last remaining parent.  Something that one day I will be faced with.  We have done everything for my Grandmother that we can to make her as happy and as comfortable in the winter of her life.

As they unfold, I realise that these events in my life are slowly turning me from the “next” generation, into “the” generation.  The one that makes the difference, the one that takes control, the one that my parents are now moving on from.  They will become the grandparents / elderly parents, and it will soon be my responsibility to take the decisions regarding their lives.

The most difficult part of all this for my Mum, is to decide whether or not to agree to DNR.  A harsh medical term: Do Not Resuscitate.  I do not envy her that task.  In the last few days and hours, I have tried to do what I can for my Mum at the time she needs me most.

Death is never easy, but how we deal with it is at least as important as how we deal with life.  We have given my Grandmother the best that we can.  We have ensured that her last days have been filled with love, joy and happiness.  Nelson Mandela once said that we are only human, because of other people’s humanity.

I only hope that as her life draws to its close, my Grandmother knows how much we will miss her.


(Remarkably, my Grandmother has proved to be more resilient than anyone had predicted.  Two weeks on from the original posting of this blog and she has made a remarkable recovery.  Her discharge date from Hospital will hopefully be this week)