When my Grandad was on his death bed,
I felt, and I know this might seem a strange thing to write,
a sense of freeness.
All my previous concerns
around the way I look-
my body image/
general self-loathing-
they all evaporated.
Getting up every morning, I had only one thing on my mind-
Grandad–
every ounce of headspace consumed by a combination of love,
and grief.
Watching him dying in front of me-
anxiously waiting for him to take his final breath,
mixed emotions of never wanting that moment to come-
not ready to say goodbye-
but, also, willing for it to come quicker-
knowing that it’s your time to rest-
watching that put everything into perspective…
Watching that made me realise how…
in the face of death, nothing else matters-
such a freeing realisation.
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