We had to create a book which uses a personal story that relates to loss. My story is about the last 6 months of my time with my granddad before he passed away from cancer.
The main thing I wanted to get across was how my grandad was the back bone of the family, the member that made it strong. To put this across I used thick card for his photo and made it so that when you remove the photos to reveal the story you are also making the book weaker in turn. The photo also works the idea of there being a missing piece, the story from removing the pages is complete - it’s not until the photo is pieced back together and turned over that the final paragraph is shown. I used dates that fit with the rough timeline of each section of the story to work almost as the chapters. The actual paragraphs are printed on layout paper which makes it slightly see through and weak once the card from the photos is removed.
(UNI YEAR 1)
Each page of the story is covered by a section of the last ever photo of my grandad (about 6 months before he passed).
Once the photo is ripped off the story is revelaed underneath, making the book weaker as it happens.
The book with the photos removed, the type is on a thin sheet of paper to ensure the book does get weaker.
All of the pieces of the photo put together.
On the back of the photo is the final paragraph for the narrative.
The Full Story
I was sat in my room, on Skype to some friends when my mum comes in and says she needs a talk. She had never done this before so a part of me knew that something was wrong, I thought it was something to do with my parents fighting again but I pushed this aside. A tear came out of my mums eyes as she told me granddad had been diagnosed with cancer and that he was going to be having operations, it really didn't hit me at first, she left my room and I turned back round and just stared into space for such a long time.
For the next few months with only occasional news I began to grow hope that things were looking up. Then I found out that my dad had been taking him to the hospital each week for an operation to remove some of the cancer, but they had been turning him away and putting it off. It got to late.
About a week after finding out no more could be done I got a phone call from grandad, I can't remember much of it other than the last few words. That was the first time he had said "I love you" in all recent memory.
Lots happened over the next year and a half, but it all came down to a final day and a half. By this point he was at home, confined to a hospital bed in a room we had prepared for him, with a career trying to do his best to help. Something was wrong, nothing was said to me but I saw Claire (my sister) and mum leave fairly early in the morning. Dad came upstairs and said if I wanted to go to town, which was strange but I went along with it. We had just left smiths when dad got a call, the look on his face I will never forget – it was filled with so much motionless emotion. He turned me and said we had to go, quickly. Once we were in the car he told me that it was happening, the doctors had given him as little as an hour.
It was the scariest drive I had ever been in, my dad was never the most cautious driver but I had never seem him with this much determination. We both sat in silence as he flew down the country lanes, before long we were there. We got into the house and made our way to the room, sitting around the bed was my mum, nan and sister. I could see all of them had been crying, my sister looked up at me with a kind of smile I hadn't seen before and ushered me over to hold his hand.
We all thought it was going to happen there and then, but no, he held on for a day and a half. It was unbearable to watch, part of us wished it would hurry up and happen so he didn't have to keep on suffering. As horrible as this was, we were all able to have time to say our goodbyes, as much as we tried to deny it we knew we had to. The nurses came to the house a few times to up his pain medication, but even they could see he was still in pain. After holding on for so long, defying everything the doctors kept saying, he finally let go.
This was the first time I saw my dad cry, stood in the corner trying not to show it, and leaving as grandads career said a little prayer and shut his eyes for the last time. For the rest of the day there was a said silence as we waited for his body to be taken away. We all sat in the kitchen, myself and my dad shared a few drinks of whisky between us as everyone else sat there not knowing what to do. Even though few words were said it felt like there was a bond between all of us that had never been felt before.
We cremated him on the first day of the next month,it couldn't have been a nicer send of for him. I can still remember when we were in the cars following to the crematorium, there was a local farmer walking his dog who stopped, took off his hat and bowed his head until the cars were gone - it was a small gesture but it made me feel so happy to see care and respect from a complete stranger like that. The ceremony was short but it was incredible to see all the people who showed up from his past just to say good bye. Sadly this was the last time my family was close. Since then, with a lot of bad luck and arguments, my family has drifted a part to the extent of hardly any of us even talk to each other or can stand to be in each others company for anytime at all. I guess, the balance in my family was a lot more delicate than we released and losing him tipped it all over the edge.
