Yesterday they discovered that the cause of her problem was a bowel obstruction which would require emergency surgery to remove. However, they also discovered that her kidneys were failing and she couldn't have any surgery in that condition. After some work on stabilizing her there was consultation between her, the doctors, my aunt and Grandad and it was decided that instead of continuing to exert themselves she should be made comfortable and things let take their course. My Mum and Dad were able to make it down to London in time to see her again, which I'm relieved about for Mums sake.
Althought this was in many ways completely expected, I find it occupying my thoughts to a much greater extent than I had anticipated. My mind swarms with rememberances of their annual summer visit to us, of the time I spent living with them when I first came to London, of all sorts of visits and meetings. Even though we knew it was coming, it's hard to get my head around the idea that she's really gone this time, that this is it. Based on my only past experience (when Mum's best friend died) it won't really hit me properly until the funeral, where I'll end up in tears.
It's not something I feel grief about - she herself said that she wanted it - but I am sad, mournful I suppose. I'm concerned for my Grandad, who'll be living on his own now, and for my Mum, although I suspect that she too won't be upset but almost relieved in a way. It's almost over, for all of us. Alex has offered to come with me to the funeral (which I guess will probably be early next week) and then we'll say goodbye.