It would have been my grandfathers 90th birthday today had he lived to see it. Imagine, 90 years old.

When you start talking about ages around the 80s and 90s it’s hard to say whether it’s sad or not. I mean how long do we want to live for? In Jack’s case, he was immobile but his mind was still very sharp. It was too much to ask of my nana to take care of a large man unable to walk so he spent the last couple of years of his life in a nursing home. She went to visit him though. Every day. I find it impossible to imagine.

Anyway, Freda is still going strong. She’ll be 90 in May, the main reason for our trip home to Australia. She forgets things more often than not most of the time, but she’s still there. I talk to her every week, fill her in on what I’ve been up to, listen to her stories. It’s nice. She’s still very independant, but it’s more about being stubborn than being capable. Not that she’s not capable. It’s more for us, we worry. We want her to live close by to someone. Right now she lives in Sydney alone. My mum lives in Queensland, about 14 hours drive away. They’ve built a self-contained flat for her, but nana refuses to move. That independance thing again.

It’s difficult for so many reasons. I hate to waste time worrying about getting old because you can never be sure what’s around the corner. But sometimes it just happens, and I worry… life I guess.

Anyway, wherever you are grandpa, Happy Birthday. I’m thinking of you.