The last week of July, 2011. It was probably the weirdest week of my life. On one hand, it was the first week of the summer holidays- I had some great plans, I was really busy meeting up with some of the best people I know. It looked to be a fantastic first week. Then, near the end of the school year, my great-aunt was hospitalised after a fall. She was medically fine, and could have gone back to her very sheltered accomodation- however, the doctors kept her in. Though she had dementia, and she was very 'puggled', as we called it, she didn't want to be in hospital, and that was obvious. She absolutely hated it, and refused to eat or drink, yet the doctors kept her in. The outcome was fairly obvious to us, and we had no way of stopping it.
My mum, her sisters and some of my cousins spent quite a bit of time visiting her in hospital during those two weeks or so. I went once, on the Monday of the first week of the holidays. I remember that we had to spend ages waiting in a corridor without any windows- the sort of place that was so obviously a hospital. My mum and one of her sisters went in to try and argue with the doctors to let my great-aunt go home, but they still said no. Following that, myself, my sister and the cousin we were with were taken into the ward to see my great-aunt. It was shocking- she had always been thin, but over her hospitalisation she became even more so. Whilst we were there, my mum and aunt took some pictures of my sister and cousin with my great-aunt- pictures for just in case. Even in those pictures, when she was unhappy and generally suffering from old-age, she pulled faces. My great-aunt was still in there, somewhere, even if she was unrecognisable.
During the next part of the week, various relatives visited the hospital. I had the chance to go again a couple of times, but chose not to. I wanted to remember the person she was- I didn't want to have the memories affected by what had happened since.
On the Wednesday of that week, I went out with my swimming friends. At that time, Bristol had gorillas everywhere (like the Gromit Hunt) so we went to hunt gorillas. We had an absolutely fantastic day, and it's still one of my favourite memories. I didn't have to think about everything else that was happening; I just relaxed and had fun.
The next day we had swimming training. My friend BG brought along the stuffed toys she made in Textiles, and myself, KP and PT stole them and photographed them around the swimming center- some great pictures that I love to look at now.
The swimming session was really fun, and we all really enjoyed ourselves. One of the lifeguards on duty was *- yes, the person referred to as * on here. At the time- and, obviously, still now- * was a huge person in my life, though I was never in hers; I had a huge huge crush on her (this is probably another story for another time, just giving the background to explain things!). However, as lifeguards often 'come and go' from different jobs, I was dreading the time she'd leave, feeling it would be soon.
That night,we watched as she was thrown in the pool: a tradition for any lifeguard leaving their job.When we spoke to her later on, she told us that she wasn't leaving, but moving to a different, permanent shift. Basically, we were very unlikely to see her anymore. For me, that was devastating.
When we got home that night- me feeling already quite upset- I could see my mum through the blinds. She was stood up, talking on the phone. In that moment, I knew without being told that my great-aunt had died. My mum and two of her sisters went to sort things out whilst I went to bed, mourning both my great-aunt and the loss of something that was never going to happen (as I said, story for another time).
The next day, I went out with my swimming friends again, as pre-planned, and had yet another fantastic day. It was such a weird week, these bits of grief stuck between such good times.
So, the song? At the time, I had just started listening to Amy Macdonald. Over the next few weeks, as we sorted out my great-aunt's house and came to terms with that, and as I tried to force myself to forget about * entirely, I listened to 'What Happiness Means To Me' a lot. It seemed to sum my main feelings up- missing my great-aunt but knowing that, really, she was a lot happier and in a much better place, and missing *.
Although things have changed wildly since then (for example, it wasn't actually the last time I saw *), the song is still hugely important to me, and always reminds of that summer, in particular that strange week.
What Happiness Means To Me- Amy Macdonald
So yeah. A story that's really important to me but that I've never told anyone before. Tied in to the song challenge. Yay :P