You know that phase, where you're sitting there and you're thinking life is pretty great? That everything is going well?
That feeling you get when it's all torn out from underneath you?
I mean, I've always tried to be the optimistic type. I've always been the one looking on the bright side, cracking jokes and generally keeping things positive *Cue Legally Blonde remaining stuck in my head for the next 6 hours as I attempt to sleep*
But I'm struggling to do so right now.
Currently, my grandfather is lying in a bed in the ICU. Being unable to breathe for himself. Don't get me wrong, there are people in there in much worse conditions. But there's one thing that's more important about my grandad. He's fucking MY grandad.
More than that, he is pretty much the entire reason I am the way that I am. He's always encouraged me to do what I want, be who I want and everything like that. Whenever I'd get shit at school for being an odd little fucker, which I very much was, he'd always be there to tell me to ignore all that. No matter what happened, he loved me and the way I was and there wasn't anything that was going to change that. I know everyone must get that from their parents and grandparents, but I don't care about those. I care about my grandad.
It's very rare you'll ever see me write like this. Obviously, this isn't a common occurence - not yet, at least - so it's not often I'll ever be in this mindstate. But right now, everything seems futile. Not since Lauragate has everything ever felt so pointless.
Again, I sit there and joke around and have a laugh and that's all well and good. But that doesn't solve the fact that my guiding inspiration in my life is lying two feet away completely unconscious. I talk to him, but the words just get choked out behind the tears. It sounds pathetic really. He'll be fine. He's part of my family, it takes a lot to kill us. Nonetheless, I can't help but feel like we're playing the waiting game right now. Just sitting there, counting down the minutes until they announce the inevitable.
I honestly don't think he's ever going to come out of that ICU. Not alive.
I hate myself for thinking it. But I can't help it. He's been through so much shit, in and out of hospitals for so many years now that I can't believe he's still fighting. But he always has. He always laughs, always a smile on his face. Which is why I'm finding it so hard to do that right now. He's the one who taught me that life isn't so bad and that there's always a silver lining.
What's the silver lining to this, grandad? Because I just don't see one. Beyond you not being in any pain any more, which is obviously something I wish for more than anything, but not like this.
I love you grandad. With all my heart and everything that I am. Please pull out of this.
I'll be lost without you.
I'm not even spellchecking or proofreading this. Fuck it. What's the point anymore?