Acquaintances

Chapter 37: In The Blink of an Eye

I feel like I’ve thought this before, but  Bridget Jones was right when she said it’s a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces. Not even twenty minutes after I got home from saying bye to Matty did I get the phone call.

Grandma had been admitted to hospital with pneumonia, and because she had diabetes, her immune system wasn’t strong enough to recover. She was admitted the Friday night, and passed on the Tuesday. In a blink of an eye, before I could even process the information, she was gone. It all felt like one of those moments in the movies where you’re standing in the halls of a hospital and everything is moving so fast around you but you’re just standing frozen to the spot because you just don’t understand how something could happen so quickly.

Grandfather was a mess, and Mum too. I had no idea what to do, Dad and I spent the days following floating from Grandad to Mum, checking they were okay and seeing if they needed anything. If there’s anything sadder than seeing your parents cry, it’s seeing your Grandad cry.

I know she was old, but she didn’t feel her age, and she sure as hell never acted her age, there was no way anyone could have seen this coming.

It was so sudden, everything changed. Dad and Mum had temporarily moved into Grandad’s estate to look after him and I’d been here every night since as well, Mum needed just as much taking care of. She never really left her childhood room and every time I went in to sit with her she was flicking through photo albums and crying. It was heartbreaking, and my instinct to make sure her and Grandad were okay first hadn’t left much time for me to grieve. I hadn’t had much experience with grieving. I’ve never lost someone close to me, family members even. This was the first and I wish I knew how to handle it better. In a crisis, I can put other’s needs ahead of my own in an instant, my priority has been Mum and Grandad, so my own thoughts have been neglected. My phone hasn’t been turned on since that first night at the hospital, and it won’t be getting turned on any time soon. I don’t want to tell anyone, I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to skip ahead to the part where everyone starts to feel happy again but right now that seems so far away.

Christmas was approaching fast, and public holidays made funeral planning messy, so Dad and I had to make the executive decision to plan the funeral for the 28th, between Christmas and New Years.

Everyone was tired, running on minimal energy from lack of sleep, and it was hard to catch my breath between everything.

Christmas Eve I sat down next to Dad in front of the fire, it must’ve been just past 7pm, Mum and Grandad had both refused to eat dinner, yet again, and said they each wanted to be alone. I took the tattered note out of my pocket, where I’d kept it all week and been rereading over again. I never realized how much she actually impacted my life, with this letter and so many other things. When I was growing up, she was always the one who made me go on holidays with her and Grandad, she always dragged me away from my studying to do something fun, because she understood that no amount of success was going to make me happy. The last time I’d seen her, before in a hospital bed, was at morning tea the day I told her my plans to go back to uni, and she told me that the list was changeable, depending on my own happiness.

I wish I’d just appreciated her more, and spent more time with her, she was right in this letter, I didn’t take after Granddad as much as he would like to think, I take after her and now she is gone and I feel more lost than ever. I feel numb, it was all so fast and I don’t think it’s really hit me what has happened. Everything is so blurry, this will be the worst Christmas.

This crumpled piece of paper with all her wisdom embedded in black ink, it was just a piece of paper now. I was failing at the list, I’d done about 6 things and the whole single thing was going fucking great. I was a failure, and I hated failure.

“You okay?” Dad asks, taking my attention away from the sheets of paper in my hand.

I hadn’t noticed the tears running down my cheek, but he had.

“I just miss her, that’s all. I think I’m going to go for a drive, I need to clear my head. Can I take your car?” I ask, standing up and wiping my cheeks dry.

“Of course, keys are on the bench.” He nods with a small smile. I feel bad for leaving him here to look after Mum and Granddad on Christmas Eve, but I can’t be here right now, and I can’t do much anyway. I don’t know what it’s like to lose the person you’ve loved your entire life, I don’t know what it’s like to lose your Mum. I don’t think any of us are really sure how to handle this.

I hop into Dad’s Lexus and pull out of the long winding driveway that runs through the gardens of the estate and out onto the road. I have no idea where I’m going, but every turn I make seems to contradict that. I turn on the radio and the car is filled with the latest 5SOS song, I change the channel because I am so not in the mood for their poppy punk vibe, Say something is on the next channel and I change it again because that’s way too depressing, I finally settle on a channel playing Rather Be, which I haven’t heard in months and always reminds me of Louis because he loves it. I sniffle away the last of my tears. What a mess. This is the worst Christmas Eve I’ve ever had, understandably.

The suburban streets are relatively quiet on Christmas Eve, and when I get out onto the M1, I’m one of the only cars.

Where the hell am I going?

You know where you’re going, my subconscious smirks from the passenger seat, resting her feet up on the dashboard. I shake my head to get rid of the image of her. She offers to drive and I roll my eyes, who knows where she’d take us. I continue onto the M6, getting further and further away from London the longer I’m driving, listening mindlessly to mainstream radio and trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my stomach.

The signs leading to Cheshire make it more and more apparent to myself where I’m going, and I don’t have any control over my actions when I take Exit 18, following the signs to the only place I can think of going right now. After three hours have passed since I left my grandparents, my stomach fills with nerves as I see the sign.

Holmes Chapel. Please drive slowly through the village. 

A/N: I know this is short but you’ll live since it’s already the second update for today. I have waaaaay too much time on uni holidays.