Death's Lesson is: Live!

Nothing prepares you for the death of a loved one. It's been three weeks since my father-in-law died so unexpectedly and I still don't really believe he's gone.

I'm heading home from Colombia tomorrow. I want to slide under soft sheets and sleep until the New Year. But the universe has made this impossible by presenting me with an innovative writing project which involves deadlines and actual payment. Life it seems, must go on, however unbearable it seems to those grieving. 

My father-in-law's passing has shaken me. He was only 73. My grandfather, who died in February, lived to 91. My grandmother celebrated her 92nd birthday with us in Mallorca a couple of months ago, and laughs like she'll live forever. I always assumed everyone I loved would live at least to their nineties.

In September the four of us, my husband and my parents-in-law, spent a wonderful month together in Spain. In Mallorca we swam in the sea, ate delicious food every day and made up for all the distance that had been separating us. In Jerez we became experts in sherry; in Seville we caught a rare peek of street Flamenco.

Everyone tells us now how happy my father-in-law had been after that trip. He returned home renewed and with a fresh enthusiasm to travel and enjoy life. He told his wife, my brilliant mother-in-law, that she should give up work and that they should spend their next years together having fun.  How cruel it seems. The only comfort is that his death was swift and painless, and he was a healthy man until the end.  

I miss my father-in-law. He was a kind man. A calm man, who didn't fuss or stress. He was curious about life and always learning; interested in what you were doing and supportive. If you didn't know something, he would be straight on Google! 

Like my husband, he always seemed to weave his way through the bureaucracy of daily life without getting flustered or angry. 

Patient. The only thing that threatened his calm was Bogota traffic, but after experiencing Bogota traffic, you would sympathise. He was better at organising a trip than any travel agency. He knew that life was for living and he lived it with a great appetite. All these qualities, he's passed onto my husband, for which I'm so grateful.

I look at my husband now and I want to engrave each moment in eternity.

If my father-in-law's death has taught me anything, it's that we must live life fully now. Enjoy it. Don't waste it all thinking and planning for the future. Choose experience over possessions! Don't wait until you're retired to embark on the life you dream of. Don't put off what you could be doing today if it's something important to you.  

It seems to me that the lesson of death is to live. To live with all your heart.

Rest in Peace my dear father-in-law

Goodbye my beloved Grampa...

Dear Grampa

My Mum called me this morning.  All she said was, 'I'm in Wales...' and I just knew. I knew you had left us.

A coal miner, you had black lung, and had been having problems breathing. I'm so glad you weren't in hospital when you closed your eyes for the last time. I'm so glad you were at home. For me, it will always be the warmest, most welcoming home in Wales. I picture you in the armchair near the fire, having an och (kip) and Gramma  on the sofa opposite watching The Voice (Come on the girl from Cwmparc!).

Ninety one years young and dancing two nights a week until a few years ago. Any music would get you and Gramma dancing around the living room. I can hear you laugh now.  A whisky in your hand.  

As I sit here, I'm overwhelmed with grief. Think of the good memories, people say. I only have good memories and they are making me cry; I wanted to go on making more.  

I know  I'm so lucky to have had you as my Grampa. Everyone who knew you is already missing you. You were always so kind and generous. My Mum once told me how she had called you from London when she was young and homesick, and you had just got in the car and driven all the way to bring her home. It was no trouble. You would always go out of your way to help people.

I loved the way you would sneak twenty pound notes in our hands and say, don't tell your grandmother! As if she didn't know.  As if she hadn't just snuck a twenty pound note in our hands a minute earlier!

Grampa, you are Christmas; top of the table and never too serious to wear a paper crown. You are holidays in Spain; sitting in a fold up chair by the river. You are walks up the Bwlch leading us to the winberries for Gramma's pie.   

Oh Grampa, if you could see the tissues surrounding my lap top right now, you'd probably tell me not to be so twp! You would want all the family to get together and celebrate you... and we will. It's just going to hurt for a while. But that's because you were so loved.

I love you Grampa and hope you are at peace,

Your granddaughter

Emily