Not forgetting

My grandmother's partner of 28 years recently died and we did a funeral trip up North. The sorest point in all that currently isn't anything to do with the man we regrettably hadn't seen for all too many years, but the fact that once she dies as well, it will still remain to be the twelve hour drive to get even to her grave, next to him. At the moment, that hurts disproportionately much, when the likelihood of my living in the UK sometime in the future again is great, adding to my personal distance.

The thinking seems to be that from the UK it's difficult in any case, but while in the same country, you as if should or could. Especially with the tradition of leaving candles burning on holidays, visiting and remembering the lost. The thought that after whatever locals knew her die themselves, stop caring, remembering or being able to otherwise visit the grave themselves, that the grave would always be dark is heartbreaking.

There are of course guilty consciences involved, no matter how great the distance to travel. That you don't see relatives for years is not excused by the fact that yours isn't a particularly close family in any case, when there was never any question of your not getting along with your grandmother. She was always the closest of your grandparents, after all.

Everyone said they'd visit more often now that they got there once after however many years in each respective case. It doesn't mean she's not there alone in the meantime, having already wanted to take a dog a bit earlier in the year to alleviate the loneliness when her partner was in the hospital. Unfortunately, the grown puppy pulled her over a little before the death of her partner, and cracked ribs lead to her having to give the dog up. She's a great distance away even from the closest neighbours, and with people visiting only a few times a week. How dark, cold and lonely it got even before losing her partner, I could only begin to imagine.

It's not that she does badly at all for her age otherwise. Given some of the blunt language she used half shocking my brother, it's not as if she's not in fighting spirits in general either. There is a lot of fire, but it's hard up there in any case. The attitude may show in her scoffing at the thought of a Norwegian long-haired cat to keep her company, and claiming it would get eaten by foxes while out.

I have some sort of a post brewing somewhere about the care industry, but I need to keep that separate from this, since it mostly is. I also need to write about all the things discovered only once up there, once your mother had left and your grandmother was freer to talk, whether for being hushed up otherwise or what, we couldn't tell. My maternal grandfather died at the age of fifty when I was five, so it was very interesting from one angle to hear her talk about him, even if it wasn't easy for her to live through. Calling the police to come take away his guns so that he'd at least have to use an axe or his hands to try killing her kind of automatically falls under difficult, you know?

Closets and what lurks in them, and what you possibly never learn. Especially if you leave things too late.

Likewise, talk about your past to your kids and grandchildren. Even if they'd claim not to be interested or have heard it already. Write down people's names behind your old photographs and write down at least some of what happened in your life if none of the family claim to want to listen. The records will exist for when they do want them, and sooner or later someone no doubt will. If you have care workers coming in, they might be interested in knowing more if nothing else. Someone should remember, and someone will eventually care.