![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
He had a good innings, and other cliches.
Dec. 8th, 2007 12:13 pmIsn't it always the way that when you're worried about one thing, something unexpected turns up and bites you on the bum?
Was woken up this morning by Husband saying Mum had just phoned with sad news - I braced myself for it to be about Auntie Glen or Niany, both of whom I'd prepared myself for potentially losing after seeing how frail they both were, but no.
My Grampy, who I'd seen only on Thursday morning, who had been as fit as a fiddle and happy as Larry, died last night.
It was very, very sudden. It seems he'd just gone to sleep in his chair and not woken up again. He'd had total independence, kept his home, his mobility and his marbles throughout, he was still driving, had just written a book and continued to write letters to the Labour Party haranguing them for losing their principles. He remained himself, an opinionated, idealistic old Socialist who adored nothing more than good times and family.
It's pulled the carpet from under all of our feet - we're all very much in shock, and finding it difficult to deal with a loss that's come so utterly out of the blue. But then isn't his the best way to go? Suddenly, peacefully, having lived long enough to see his childrens' childrens' children without losing his dignity or faculties?
I'm taking comfort in that, and in thinking practically, as I always do in these situations. And in the love of Hubs and Violet, obviously.
Was woken up this morning by Husband saying Mum had just phoned with sad news - I braced myself for it to be about Auntie Glen or Niany, both of whom I'd prepared myself for potentially losing after seeing how frail they both were, but no.
My Grampy, who I'd seen only on Thursday morning, who had been as fit as a fiddle and happy as Larry, died last night.
It was very, very sudden. It seems he'd just gone to sleep in his chair and not woken up again. He'd had total independence, kept his home, his mobility and his marbles throughout, he was still driving, had just written a book and continued to write letters to the Labour Party haranguing them for losing their principles. He remained himself, an opinionated, idealistic old Socialist who adored nothing more than good times and family.
It's pulled the carpet from under all of our feet - we're all very much in shock, and finding it difficult to deal with a loss that's come so utterly out of the blue. But then isn't his the best way to go? Suddenly, peacefully, having lived long enough to see his childrens' childrens' children without losing his dignity or faculties?
I'm taking comfort in that, and in thinking practically, as I always do in these situations. And in the love of Hubs and Violet, obviously.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}