My Gran meant the absolute world to me – we were not just Gran and Granddaughter we were friends.

I loved her with as much of my heart as I could. She was the most trusting and kind person in my life. Just hearing her little voice on my answering machine made my heart jump with pride – my little Gran.

She went into hospital one day with gout in her hand and she never came home.

It was truly the most distressing time in my life – little did I know at that time it could be worse.

I visited her often and never gave up hope that she would soon be home – in fact the day they took her into hospital I was with her – sat on her bed at home chattering about Diana and the butler (Paul Burrell’s book had just come out) we were having a lovely day then the doctor arrived and said it was best she went into the hospital.

I told my mum I’d be surprised if they kept her in but they did and two weeks later she had a heart attack a week later she died. My little ray of sunshine gone!

During the week after the heart attack my family kept a round the clock bedside vigil up – no one left her side.

I went over to see her on the Saturday morning (she died later that evening) I was shuffled into this room where my little Gran lay – it was stifling – there was no air – around her bed were 7 people – I wanted to run. I got shoved towards her bed but I felt unable to say anything to her with all those faces looking at me.

Then a strange thing happened. A nurse came in to changed a drip she had up – everyone was asked to leave – one by one they got up but because I’d been shoved to the opposite side of the room I was last to leave but I didn’t leave the nurse asked me if I wanted to stay.

So I did – I got to say goodbye to the lady who didn’t realise how much she had helped me all my life – just with a cheery hello she could turn a shit day into a good one.

I sat alone and held her hand and told her – I thanked her for everything she had done for me – when I mentioned K I swear to this day she murmured – that time was all to brief and one by one everyone filed back in.

Later that night my mum rang to say “she’s gone Katie” I thought my heart would never mend.

A year later K came with me to her grave and he said to me “do you think she would want to see you so sad” I knew she wouldn’t but it didn’t stop me missing her.

Then two years later B had a baby girl Rosie – she was so very poorly and only lived for 43 minutes – I was left in a room with this tiny little bundle who had died – she was in a cot and B was in surgery – I thought that was the most dreadful day of my life until K died.

There I was holding a tiny little mite who was not breathing. My granddaughter. My first grandchild.

Her funeral was unbearable – the little white coffin – the rain – B’s heart broken sobs – the bewildered look on her little face.

Then almost a year and a month to the day of Rosie’s death K died.

I used to say to him “don’t die in St James’ as I don’t want to carry bags of your belongings out of there and don’t linger” he used to joke back about the “famous final death bed scene.”(Bob Segers song the 'famous final scene' had been adapted to the death bed - black humour but it helped us) He didn’t want that. He used to say “I don’t want people sobbing over me” well he got his wish and I got mine.

This is why I am in two minds about going to see my Auntie

I just can’t bring myself to go to yet another death bed but then I keep thinking I should, but then I think what would she think “they are only coming to see me because my life is ending” or would she be pleased that we cared enough to go and see her.

Oh I don’t know what to do. To be honest I just don’t think I’m strong enough to sit and talk to her like nothing is wrong. I can’t talk to her like I did my Gran cos she was unconscious.

I didn’t get to say “goodbye” to K which I really wish I had – as I said yesterday I am now totally sick of death and all the pain and heart ache it brings.

Maybe I should just keep texting her – or am I a coward for not facing her?