We had our first Christmas without Grandpa today. His chair was empty, both in the living room and at the dinner table, although other people sat in both. It’s been over ten months since he died, and I still can’t go to the house without expecting to see him reading a book in his armchair or watching golf on the television downstairs. I miss him more than I can really explain to the internet.
Grandma, as I’ve written before, went into the hospital in early November with pneumonia. She is still being held there, although her lungs cleared after the first four weeks of constant care, because her physicians have decided she can’t live on her own any more and she is on the waiting list for a lodge. Her pneumonia was caused by aspirating food and drink; tests recently indicated she isn’t always able to swallow effectively, so Grandma’s diet is largely mush and thickened liquids now. We managed to arrange a day pass from the hospital and brought her back to her house to celebrate Christmas and share the family meal, but knowing she had to go back to her dull room at the hospital after dinner really hung in the air today.
We did our best: we truly did, but things have changed so much that it didn’t feel like Christmas.
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