This morning I decided to take a sickie from work because I was tired and not feeling the best. So I called in sick, changed my doctor’s appointment to today and crawled back to bed. Whereupon the phone rang. It was my dad, telling me that my grandfather had died. I still don’t know when exactly. And I’m not exactly sure of the details except that he was out on the farm, picking apples on a lovely November day.

I’m sad, but I can’t help but think that he’s 80 years old and that’s a really nice way to go. My mum was on the phone this morning, and she said that all the family were at home, and that everyone was glad about how he died. I really feel for my brother, in New York, but I guess he’s got his friend Paul and his girlie, so he’ll be ok. I got hugs from Mel this morning, and I went to Mass in the Cathedral, which was the first time going since the obligatory family mass on Christmas eve. It’s funny how you turn to the old ways for comfort. Mass was nice but the reading was the a really trippy passage from Revelations and the Gospel was the one about the Ten Talents, which is the one I think I dislike most.

My poor grandmother. I’ve written before about what a shit deal she’s had lately. And now, my grandfather; the love of her life, the person who she waited on her whole life, and waited for everyday now she’s been ill and is in a home, is gone. I don’t know what this is going to do to her.

I always thought that if I got a call like this, it would be about my gran. Funny old world really.

I’m glad I took the day off, that I got a chance to remember him a little bit.

It really sucks being on the other side of the world though. I miss my mom and I wish I was there for her now.