I thought my biggest mind-fuck of the day was going to be that I am in fact almost exactly the same weight as I was a month ago before I went to the woods and started eating regularly.
Then my Grandad died.
He just dropped dead from a heart attack whilst doing some gardening, my Grandma ran out to him, her neighbour heard her calling him, my Grandma rang 999 and the neighbour did CPR. He was 84 and in lots of ways I'm glad he died doing what he enjoyed and that he didn't slowly slowly die from an awful illness. But it is a massive shock. My mum and I got there whilst the police and paramedics were still there, then the coroners came, took him away after awhile. There is most likely going to be a post mortem because it was so sudden and he was otherwise very fit and healthy for his age.
It doesn't really seem real. I went to make teas and coffees and in trying to work out who was having what and who with sugar etc. I was counting him, assuming he'd want a coffee. His slippers were where he'd left them. His watch on a coffee table.
is was my mum's stepfather - her Dad died when she was in her twenties) His son came, my aunt was there, my two cousins, my grandparents friends.
I always thought I was quite emotionally void about death, about a lot of things really. I'm not though.