Today was difficult.

On top of a mate messing me about - Ill as he was, he could have solved my problem by simply answering the phone instead of my whole day being wasted... Grandad wasn't doing so well tonight.

And god help me, I tried my best to chat to him. Thought I'd done not too badly, even with Lee screeching the ward down.
But I overheard chat in Mum's kitchen later about how shite it was that I didn't say much.

Which made me feel a whole lot better.

Fuck, he started crying in the middle of talking about football to Kat.
For no apparent reason... Just that. And even before that, the conversation was so random. It made no sense.
And I looked at him, and it seemed like he was crying because he knows what's going on - His flashes of complete lucidity PROVE that!
He knows what's going on but he's trapped behind his own eyes. So when he talked to me for a few minutes with them tight shut, and then the tears began to flow... I barely held ,myself together.

And I feel like that more often than not these days.
I try my hardest to be there for Kat, to keep this place in order, to look after the kids as best I can.
We're getting married in under a year now, and none of the job interviews I've gone for have borne fruit.
S8's doing OK, but the site needs work - So I need to try to get out there to get it done.
And we've both bought gym memberships... And I'm trying to get my money's worth out of that. Kat's been either so tired, or she's had stuff on outside of work, of late that she's hardly been - And I was really enjoying spending time with her somewhere just the two of us that wasn't a cinema or a pub, or our house!
There aren't enough hours in the day or days in the week, and even my own subconscious is fucking with me, since it's decided that now would be a just fucking dandy time to kick in with the bloody night terrors and sleep paralysis again.

At the end of the day, though, it all means fuck all when I think about my grandparents.
I was devastated when Pal died - But it was relatively sudden, and he was kinda himself the last time I saw him.

When I'm told that Grandad's memory is unlikely ever to return to the way it was... Well, your memory is your life.
He's fading, and there's not a thing I can do about it. He's physically not too bad, but there'll be less of my Grandad there with every year that goes by.

I feel pointless.