Alice Bull

My gran died at 4.30 pm on Saturday afternoon. It wasn't a shock -- it was inevitable. I managed to see her on Friday afternoon for a while and say all the things I needed to -- not just for me, but for Vic, India, my brother and my best mate Rob who has always regarded gran as his own. She was tired and lost in a fog of morphine, but I hope she heard what I told her. My brother arrived five minutes topo late to speak to her himself on Saturday -- but as I told him yesterday, I'd said what needed to be said for both of us and it's not about the last five minutes, or the last few weeks, it is all about the last 33 years.

It was a rapid decline for my gran. Two weeks ago I thought she would make Christmas, but over the course of the fortnight expectations of her survival time dropped first to a few weeks, then a few days, and by Friday it was down to a few hours. In the end she lost the fight, but it was one she couldn't win.

I'm going to miss her. She was a brilliant gran -- the best a grandson could hope for -- and a lovely person.