It’s early on a Saturday morning, I ate so much garlic last night I had to get up at 2 am and brush my teeth because the taste woke me up. This morning I feel tired. Last night I finished my Lebanese meal by eating a lot of baklavas which made it hard to sleep. A heavy emotional weight descended on me, likely compounded by excess oil, syrup and bad Netflix viewing, creating in me a feeling of morbidity. Why do I start thinking about death? Maybe the slowing of my body’s ability to function reminds me of my own inevitable end and also of those people I love.

My silly Dad

The thought of my mother or father passing, how will I feel? I thought about when my mum lost her mum, my Grandma Joy, how sad we were. My beautiful, tiny, frail Grandma Joy lived in an old cottage down the hill from my mum. In the end she was bent over like a question mark from Osteoperosis. The last night I spent with her was early November 2006.

We waited for her to arrive for my birthday meal, fiercely independent she insisted on coming out on that cold winters night. When her little red car pulled into our driveway I ran outside and patiently helped her come into the house. She pushed her chin up to look at me and smiled with beautiful eyes and a clear mind.

She was tiny by this point, grey-faced, so reduced in size, but peaceful and smiling, all the same. I don’t know how she was bothered to do anything in the condition she was in. She refused all fussing and after a small Indian feast, she went home again. I helped her back to her car and I looked at her, taking her in, “Goodbye Grandma I love you,” I was sad. She smiled and patted my cheek. I gently closed the car door and watched while she slowly did a 100 point turn and left. I knew it was the last time I would see her.

The next day my mum took me to the train station. “Shall we pop in and say goodbye?” I didn’t say anything, I just looked at my mum, and she said, “No, I’ll pop in on my way back.” My phone was out of battery and when I got home and charged it, I had a voice message from my mum spilling out that Grandma had died. The story is; in the night Grandma went to the bathroom and she must have thought “fuck this” and she dived off the toilet and into the afterlife. Isn’t that just magnificent?

My mum at my cousin Todd’s funeral

I pick up feelings of sadness and emotional discord from other people too. I think I need to take more responsibility for my energetic boundaries. The last few days have been weighty for me, I’ve felt a lot of ‘stuff’ and it really isn’t mine, it just can’t be. The world is full of different struggles and if we are all connected then, of course, we will feel other people’s stuff, it’s my belief we don’t have to. Where are you carrying the emotional weight of others?

The good thing is (in my belief) no one ever really dies and death is a sweet relief from the worry of living. So on that cheery note…

Have a great day,


Lizzie xxx

When my cousin died 2 years ago I wrote a song and put them to some pictures. Todd and Grandma Joy are together. You can see it here.


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