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| Four generations |
My mum had had a second operation to try to clear blood from her brain and she'd not regained consciousness so Uncle and I stayed in hospital over-night. Morriston Hospital at the time was just a fraction of the building it is now. Then, 1972, it was just all the old war-time wards running off a corridor going up a slope. The wards were on the right as you went up and on the left were little waiting areas. Open hard wooden pew type seats. We sat/tried to sleep on those.
Early the next morning Uncle went down to the ward to see if there was any news. It was a while before he came back and then it was just to shake his head and say, 'She's gone, sweetheart.'
He drove us home and we were enveloped in the warmth of extended family love and shared loss.
A couple of years later my grandfather died. My grandmother lived on for another sixteen years. She was in a nursing home at the time and Uncle, who'd been called in to the home, phoned me in the middle of the night to say she had died. 'It's just you and me now, Liz,' he said.
In three days it will be the second anniversary of his death. So I guess I could say, it's just me now - but it's not. I have a loving husband, children and grand-children whom I adore. I am very fortunate.
5 comments:
You are now the Matriarch of your line.
I hadn't thought of it like that. I shall have to adapt a new authoritative image. And perm my hair and carry my handbag everywhere.
Like all grandmothers,great-grandmothers and great-great grandmothers through time, she'd have loved to see the new baby.
Indeed, Sonata. Wish it would hurry up!
All the same, it's hard to be the oldest - every now and again I miss my mum and (especially) my auntie Anne something dreadful!!!!
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