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20/04/20

My grandpa died.
My only consolation is that he wasn't alone in the end. The ward let my mum go in as long as she wore gloves, a gown and a mask. But she was there. She played him our messages. He opened one eye to us singing Country Roads.
But then he died.
And his funeral was sad and small. Just seven of us. My mum, dad, grandmother and uncle all sat together at the front. My brothers sat sort of together in front of me. I sat alone at the back, no contact, no comfort. All the florists are closed so there was one bunch of flowers on his coffin. I picked up a sad bunch from the supermarket on the way - they were all so bright for Easter, it wasn't right - and that was the only bunch placed by his nameplate. I couldn't hug my family. I couldn't stop shaking by the end of the service. And then I had to get straight back in my car and drive the two hours back home again ready for work the next day.

I feel like the right to grieve properly has been taken away - there should have been friends and family, tears and laughter and memories all together, but we can't. And so life is forced to go on and because I'm here and not there it feels unreal. It's weird and horrible.

The boys are not sleeping well, so I'm not sleeping well, so I'm tired and emotional all the time. I feel like I'm balancing on a tightrope of just about holding it together when all I want to do is curl up in a ball under my duvet and shut out the world. I'm eating too much, drinking way more than I normally do and not doing nearly enough exercise. Everything just feels so pointless. There's nothing to look forward to.

9:34 p.m. - 2020-04-20

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