I can't remember the exact details on account of the alcohol but my Mother somehow got around to talking about watching my Gran die. It was obviously something she'd been bottling up for a while because I could tell she was awkward saying it.
I knew exactly how she felt. I don't think you ever truly express how it feels to watch someone you love die. To actually watch the process of dying. To see the body give out and watch it shut down... the overwhelming feeling that takes control of your body when you realise exactly what it is your witnessing... it's not something you can accurately describe.
Thinking about it now, with my oh-so-acute mind, it makes my arms jitter and fingers pulse. I guess that's why I couldn't sleep last night... thinking about dying has that effect.
Seventy Five Winters. That's was the title of one of the artworks in the corridor outside my Gran's room.
Meh, anyways, I woke up at one this afternoon with grey cat sleeping on my head. He was purring...