At 11 o'clock this morning Taid (my grandad) died.
I can't say that it was unexpected, but it still hurts. He was so young, only 74, and he has already been taken away from us. He had troubles with breathing as he used to work in the coal mines and factories, so the dust got to him in the end.
He had been suffering for many months; been in and out of hospital, and had to have these oxygen tanks installed in his house to keep him breathing through all these pipes and things. He got worse everytime I went to visit him, and even walking a few steps resulted in nearly having a fit because of the loss of oxygen.
What annoyed him the most was the oxygen mask. My dad used to joke about it calling him 'Darth Vader', which amused Taid a lot, even though he hated the thing.
So a couple of days ago he was taken into hospital again because he just went unconsious, with less that 30% oxygen in his body. The next day he was breathing normally, and my dad went to visit him. Apparently Taid really got pissed of having to wear a mask, and argued and fought with the doctors whilst they tried to wrestle it on him. Still didn't work. So they went and got the police as they
tried to reason with him on putting on the mask.
In the end, Taid didn't wear the mask. Afterall, he hated that thing.
That was the last time we heard about Taid being strong, and just 30 minutes ago me and my sister were told that he had passed away.
Most people are happy, because he didn't have to suffer any more. But...I don't know what to feel.
RIP, Taid. Love you lots grandpa <3333333
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