This is my first hub, and as much as I regret beginning on a sad note, I feel this is something that I have to get off my chest. My Grandad died in March and since then I've been looking for some kind of outlet to ramble about all the thoughts i've had about it.

He's been ill for years, in fact he's never been well (i could list all his various illnesses but there isnt the space), but he's always been a fighter I guess. I always knew he would get better. But it all changed at Christmas. He'd been ill and I just knew that he was never going to get better. In a way, I felt like the most important part of him had died then, his spark had just gone. After that it was just a waiting game. I was back at university (about 4 hours away) and I worried every day that I was going to get a phone call saying the worst had happened. Luckily for me (as lucky as you can be in these situations) I was actually at home when it happened. He went into hospital on the Friday (which was not uncommon for him) and they said that there was something wrong with his kidneys, which was something that actually hadnt been a problem for him before.

I went up to visit the next day and as I was on the way to the hospital with my dad, grandma and aunt we got a phone call from the doctor saying that we should come up to the hospital (Uh-oh). The minute I got to the hospital I was terrified. He was hooked up to all these machines, he couldnt breathe, and couldnt speak. Ill skip to the end now, the upshot being that we spent almost 12 hours sitting at the hospital waiting. The worst thing about it was that he kept complaining that he wasnt dead. He kept saying 'it just won't happen' and the injections that the nurses gave him to calm him down (and eventually put him in a coma) took ages to work. I got so angry.

Afterwards, everyone said about how he went peacefully. People always say this. My grandad was anything but peaceful. The last moments of his conscious life were in pain, miserable, confused, wishing he was dead. Of course he was peaceful in the literal last few moments ... he was in a chemically induced coma! But the important bits, the last moments of his life that he could remember (if that makes sense) were NOT peaceful. Is it always a lie when people say 'at least he died peacefully'?

At the very end we were all sat around his bed (me, my parents, my sister, my grandma and my aunt and uncle). We chatted a bit and spent some of the time in silence. I've never experienced someone dying before. It's very strange. There was no life support system like you see on the tv. No heart monitor or whatever it is that beeps and tells you when the person dies. If you have seen the Friends episode where Monica and Ross' grandmother dies ... it was JUST like that! He took this big breath, or let out this big breath that we all thought was the last moment but then about 2 minutes later (maybe less) he carried on breathing. He was taking a breath every minute or so, even the doctors werent sure if he/when was dead. It was such a bizarre experience. And then, as every British person does, I made tea for my family.