Gran will have been dead for a week tomorrow night at dinner (6.30pm). Its hard to believe that a week has past. So much has happened since then - the biggest thing being that I was on a plane to Brisbane the morning after the funeral. As we took off and I sat there by myself I couldn't help but cry. I'd been fighting back tears virtually from the moment I was told 'Gran's gone'. There were few moment, at a friends house and at work, were I didn't cry.
Gran lived with my parents for two and a half years but now she's not here its like she's still just at her house. She was 97. In my time I can recall more than once when we thought she was going to die but she never did. It just doesn't seem real that this time she just didn't want to fight.
Her room has been cleaned out now, new bedding and some other new things meant that it was ready for a new international student to come and live with us four days after her death.
It has been an exceptionally long few weeks.
I'll post an image of her later. We've got a great one of her smoking a hooka!
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