November 27th, 1989
I usually love coming to Scotland on the train, but today was just awful. Mum barely uttered a word and she stared out the window the entire time. Five hours felt like days.
We caught a taxi from Central station and when we pulled up outside Nana’s building, mum started sobbing. With the taxi driver’s help, I managed to get her out of the taxi and up the two flights of stairs. Where else but in Glasgow, would the taxi driver help in that way?
Things got progressively worse once we were inside, where mum’s sister and brother were arguing so much they completely ignored mum. Within minutes of our arrival, I could feel my blood boiling but I knew better than to say anything that would no doubt only make matters worse.
Mum looked exhausted when I finally got her settled on the couch and I was really concerned about how she would handle tonight; when most of the family showed up. I really do feel like an outsider when I’m around this lot. Nothing about their behaviour makes sense to me, nor has it ever.
I kept myself busy tonight, making tea and sandwiches for the older generation and watched the younger ones drink too much and sputter accusations that would be better left unsaid.
I don’t think it’s hit me yet that Nana is gone. I keep looking at her empty chair by the window and I feel so sad knowing that’s where she took her last breath. Dad explained to me that Nana suffered from something called Hypertension and that she died from a heart attack. He said it would have happened fast and that she wouldn’t have been in pain.
Mum has gone to spend the night with her brother and his wife, which I think is probably for the best.