Although I have had some really nice times this month, September 2013 seems to be rather a sad one, full of departures and funerals.

First, my friend’s mother died of cancer and I went to her funeral.

Then I found out a few days ago that my Grandma was ill(er) and probably not going to make it. She seemed to be hanging in for a few days, but I just heard that she died in her sleep last night.

A few years ago it seemed like she was really ill and I probably wouldn’t get to see her again before she died, but she made it and, despite her health problems, ‘stuck around’ so to speak, and it’s like I took that for granted because I hardly wrote to her as I got older. And I’ve been meaning to send her a letter and some photos for months and months, but I kept putting it off because I didn’t know if she’d be able to see them properly, and now it’s too late.

A bit of back story: she lived in New Zealand, where my Dad was born and grew up, and we met once, when I was two. She had hip problems for a long time, so she wasn’t able to accompany my Grandpa on his trips to visit us, so that was the only time we met face to face.

We’ve sort of been pen pals throughout my childhood, and I think the first ever email I wrote was to her. She loved animals and bred Golden Retrievers and started the local SPCA, and she used to always choose lovely books for my birthdays and as Christmas presents. I thought she was going to live forever, simply because even though it was long distance, she was a fairly constant presence in my life and it seemed like she would always be at the other end of the world for me to write to.

Now I feel guilty for not writing more, and a bit selfish for being so upset because she was probably in pain and stuff, but I just wish she could have lived long enough for me to visit her.

I got a job this summer and I was planning to save up and go to New Zealand and Australia to see/meet my family there next August. Obviously I still want to do that, but she was the main reason for the trip, because I wanted to talk to her properly (as opposed to going ‘kitty!’and spouting general two year old nonsense) and ask her some things, and see her face, and give her a hug, because I have no memories of that first trip beyond the view from the plane at night time (a building sight near the airport with floodlights), the airport floor (I was very small and therefore quite close to it) and, though I don’t know if either if these are even real memories, visiting the pilot in the cockpit and being rather devastated that I couldn’t take my Christmas present back with me, a little pink ride on Bobbycar with its own ‘boot’.

But I don’t remember her from it, and even if I had, it would have been from a child’s point of view…

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My Dad just sent me an email about her obituary, and it gave me a bit of a jolt, because first of all I still can’t seem to wrap my mind about death in general, especially if it is someone I actually know (well, knew) or met, and secondly, because she was so far away I can almost pretend it didn’t happen, and that she is still there, on the other side of the world waiting for me to come visit.