My Nanna is dying and it is horrible.  I am so glad that I made it back to NZ to visit her in November, as she was still able to receive visitors then and hold a conversation.  Now, she’s barely able to talk and she is so weak and shrunken; it’s as if she’s vanishing in front of us.

My father and I visited her when I headed down to Wellington a couple of weeks ago, and we saw her again on Good Friday.  My parents visited her once again yesterday, but only stayed for ten minutes.  When we see her it’s as though she’s distracted and waiting for something to happen.

I haven’t been around a dying person before – by being abroad, I’ve been spared this experience when my other grandmother and my Grandad died.  My Nanna turned 96 on Good Friday: she’s done enough and, as my sister Pip put it in this lovely post about her, I hope that she will fall asleep soon, dream about her young life of parties and friends, and just drift away.


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