Over the New Year period my relative, Diana died of Covid in her care home. I can never remember Diana’s exact relation to me, not that it matters. Being so close to my actual Grandma her sweetness and warmth was always around when I was growing up. Christmas at Diana’s was the family event of the year where she’d put on the most amazing feast and make us all personalised handmade crackers.
It hurts that she has died, but it was expected. Her quality of life was such that with or without Covid she would not have lived much longer. After my Grandma died she appeared to become caught in a downward spiral, one she never recovered from. What really hurts rather is the circumstances of her death, that we could not celebrate our final Christmas together, that she was for the most part alone.
Found memories but
Now by your bedside only
Unopened presents
I could not visit
But you had already left
Many years ago
Diana was an incredible human being. I remember one day a middle aged woman greeting us unexpectedly on the streets of Didsbury. I had no idea who she was but she seemed to know Diana well. She was one of Diana’s many former primary school pupils for whom Diana meant so much that she still kept in contact, what must have been at least 30 years later, and still visited her every Christmas Eve. The kind of teacher I aspire to be.
The kind of love Diana embodied does not die. I firmly believe that there is more of Diana alive today in the hundreds of people she inspired through her compassionate example than there was left in her body in the care home. There has never been a time when we have needed this spirit more than we do now, provided we embody it she is not gone.
The night Diana fell unconscious was a full moon.
So thankful that
The full moon illuminates
This cold winter’s night
isitanexpedition 