I feel lost without you.

Today’s writing 101 prompt is to write about a loss. While it also said it doesn’t have to be a sad post, this will be. So, I’ll take this opportunity to apologise in advance.

We’ll start at the beginning. My Nan was due to have an operation on her hip but, her blood tests made the doctors postpone the operation and sent her for more bloods. Her white blood cells were dropping, fast. In the end, they decided on a bone marrow biopsy. The results? Leukemia. 

I remember finding out like it was yesterday. I was about to go to the gym for my weekly kickfit session. I broke. I sank down the side of my bed and just cried. The gym was welcome – it was punchbag time!

We were all reassured that they’d caught it at the beginning, that an intense round of chemo would sort it, make it go away. I believed them. For some reason, I trusted them. I’d just started to get close to my Nan, I was training to be a nurse, following in her early career footsteps (she gave up nursing and did 100 other things), we were talking all the time. For the first time in my life, I really felt as though I had her in my life.

Then, after we’d thrown her a surprise party for her and Granddads 25th wedding anniversary, she went back into hospital for more treatment – it would be okay, she said. She was okay, she said. Then the phonecall. There was nothing left they could do. Chemo would give her more time, but she just wasn’t responding the way they’d hoped. We’d even got a bone marrow donor ready for when she was well enough!  She refused the extra chemo. She wanted to enjoy what time she had left. 6 months they said.

For weeks, her levels didn’t change. She was okay. She was travelling around the country – they went to Scotland and back. She was seeing her friends, seeing her family. Then all of a sudden, she was in pain. A lot of pain. She was bruising easily. She told me on the Monday when she had an appointment with her consultant that they’ve stopped everything but her pain medication. That Friday, I lost my Nan. I lost Nanny. And I remember being told. I remember what I was eating, what I said to my Granddad, what I did straight after. I’ll never forget that day.

Saying goodbye to Nanny was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She lay open until the funeral, I went to see her. I sat with her, told her I’d look after everyone. I told her that I loved her. But in truth, I haven’t said goodbye. I don’t think I ever will.

I’ve never, ever felt pain like losing my Nan. I miss her every single day.

I mean it when I say this. Treasure every second you have with your loved ones. I held too much anger for too long and I have to live with that regret forever.



Author: itsjustlittleoldme


13 thoughts on “I feel lost without you.”

  1. Nan’s are special in your life my nan too passed a way over 10 years now, but now when I think of her I remember the best of times and the times when she was a pain . At Christmas we would play chase the ace, she never got that game. It was so funny. I have such fond memories. Lovely story


  2. Am so sad to hear of this. But wasn’t it great you were able to be close with her about the nursing and all? I’m sure she loved that. Excellent post. lily


  3. You look so much like her! I had to read your post just from seeing the picture. Even with your warning of being sad, I still had to read it. I’m sorry you lost her so quickly but I was touched to hear how close you became before her pain started. She sounds like she was an amazing woman. I agree about not holding on to anger but we often don’t learn these lessons until we go through them the hard way, right? She is watching over you still.


  4. I’m so very sorry sorry for your loss. If you ever question her decision, just know that it has been over 2 years since my transplant. I am 37. I BARELY made it through, had many complications, have a lot of damage, and am still disabled and might always will be. And aside from my cancer, I was healthy and given a high chance of survival. I don’t regret my decision, but if I had been 20 years older or so, I don’t know if I would have gone through with it.


    1. Thank you. I don’t question her decision. I’m glad she got to make the most of the time she had left. It just doesn’t really make me feel better about any of it really.

      Thank you for telling your story, I’m glad you made it through.


      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m glad you don’t. Many people do, but I just wanted to offer mine up in case. It is a hard road for anyone, there are a lot of complications that can occur, so I don’t blame anyone for not attempting it.


        1. She wasn’t given the option for a transplant in the end, the cancer was too aggressive and treatment wasn’t helping. Further chemo would have prolonged her life but it would have been spent in hospital instead of doing what she loved

          Liked by 1 person

  5. What a touching and heart felt post – I relate when you say that sometimes you don’t allow yourself to think about your loss. It’s a scary place to go to at times – which is why I set up my blog – to try and encourage me to face those demons. As sad, and as angry as those feelings can become, they also have a strangely healing effect when faced head on – allowing for a sense of ‘letting go.’ That’s not to say letting go of your loved one and memories – more, letting go and releasing some of the hurt and pain of losing. Thank you for sharing 🙂


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