Maybe life has a way of evening out unfairness or maybe it was just coincidence. Early on the Friday evening, my mother phoned to say Granny Wise had passed away. She had seemed to be recovering from her broken thigh but all of a sudden she appeared to give up the will to live. No family member was with her as she passed away - it had happened too quickly to contact anyone. The home was extremely apologetic. Granny had been fed at lunch time and appeared to be her normal self, although she was in a confused state. An hour later, when they went to administer her medication, she was dead. I quickly packed a case before driving home to be with my mother.
On Saturday morning I realised I had to tell Sean Sunday was off. Knowing he would be busy, I sent a text apologising for having to cancel Sunday lunch and explaining why. Mum needed me. And I needed mum. I was in a state of shock and denial. How could Granny Wise be dead? She was always there for me; always ready to dispense sound advice. Who would I turn to in future? Not my mother. Although I loved her as a mother, she was too often embarrassed at discussing relationships and especially sex. She had never prepared me for my first period or for losing my virginity. That had been left to Granny Wise. I felt as if I was totally on my own now.
The same afternoon, Oliver called. His sister’s flight was just after one in the afternoon. He could be back for two or three in the afternoon and could we meet? When I told him about Granny Wise, I burst into tears. He was wonderful. Just through his words and soft comforting voice I felt as if I was hugged in his arms. I relaxed and felt better. I couldn’t remember what he had said, just that I felt safe and no longer alone. It was how I remembered feeling when the washing machine leaked. He took control and the problems no longer appeared as bad.
Later, Jane rang to sympathise with me and Neeta followed shortly after with her condolences. I was beginning to realise I wasn’t alone. I had some wonderful friends, friends who really cared about me. The calls cheered me up. A little. Reluctantly I was beginning to accept what had happened. My eyes were being opened to the fact that other people had, for some time, also performed the counselling role Granny Wise had for many years performed alone. It was this thought that provided the greatest comfort.
It was later that evening when I received a text from Sean. The café had been busy; that was why he hadn’t replied earlier. He was sorry to hear about Granny, and hoped I wouldn’t be away too long. I would have loved it if he’d phoned me, even if it had been for just a few minutes. The text message sounded so impersonal.
It was on the Monday evening when I came home. Just for a short time to change my clothes, pick the outfit I wanted to wear to the funeral and to let work know I’d be off until the following Monday or Tuesday. Sean phoned me almost the minute I walked through the door and rather insisted he came round. I felt quite glad of the company.
Sean was trying hard to be sympathetic. I asked if he had lost anyone important to him. For some reason, I’d never really found out about his family and I was shocked by what he told me. His parents, his maternal grandparents and his sister all died in a house fire in Belfast in the early 1990s. It was a sectarian killing, just for being Catholics. His paternal grandparents had died a couple of years previously. His grandmother from breast cancer and his grandfather committed suicide ten months later because he couldn’t live without his wife. He had no living relatives. My loss suddenly seemed small in comparison. I forgave him for his text message and hugged him to show my sympathy for his loss.