It actually hurts to write this, but my grandma passed away early Tuesday morning. Since my stepsister called me hysterical at about 7.45 am, life just really hasn't been the same. My wonderful grandma is gone, I haven't seen her since earlier this year, but she died with my dad, aunt, my heartbroken granddad, and my uncle, the annoying but very much loved son-in-law.

I've never lost anyone from my immediate family before or even anyone close, and it's taken just over 31 years but the pain is worse than I imagined. I remember being obsessed with the concept of death back in 1984 when the bro and I lived with my grandparents for 6 months because my ma had to live abroad in Nigeria. My ma nearly died when she collapsed from a double hernia and called us to say goodbye, and even though I had thought occasionally of death (I'd been in a serious illness childrens ward for 3 weeks the year before), it suddenly captured my imagination and I badgered the crap out of my poor grandparents to promise me they'd always be here and to explain where we go afterwards ("Heaven baby") and to also explain what was on earth before humans. This went on for weeks and eventually, when I realised that they weren't going anywhere, I shut up. But I've secretly been afraid of losing my grandparents ever since and as I went to call my stepsister back, I just knew she was going to give me bad news.

Of course, for various reasons between my mum and father, I didn't see him or his side of the family for about 5 years. When I looked them up with Mr Brown Suit (the ex fiance), we arrived outside their house and no-one was there. I asked a neighbour if they still lived there and they said my granddad did but not my grandma and I remember panicking and thinking she had died and they'd had no way to contact me. Fortunately the neighbour had mixed them up with someone else... My father and his side of the family have been an important part of my life ever since a few minutes after the chat with the neighbour, but I'm still wishing I had spent more time, that there weren't the lost years, and that I hadn't put off going to Wolverhampton for the past few months as I became immersed in being self-employed and babydom because she's gone now.

My dad, the eternal mummy's boy is lost and like my granddad, I think he expects her to show up and demand to know why everyone is using her cooker and crying. He did everything to try and save her but there was nothing that he could do but until the coroner told him that, the poor man thought maybe he could have done more.

I've been with my family for the past couple of days and got back late last night. So many people came to pay their respects and hundreds (and I really do mean hundreds) are expected for her funeral. It was overwhelming at points as people came from far and wide to visit but it was great to be in the warmth of my family and for us to support each other. Yesterday was a lot easier and it was just close family for a few hours and we told stories, ripped the piss out of my dad, and my stepsister (the one my dad sprung on me a few years ago at the christening) got frogmarched home by my dad for turning up in what my aunt called 'Batty riders' (they were fanny grazing hot pants), patterned tights, and boots. "Did you walk the streets like that?" I demanded. "Yeah..." she said sheepishly. "You're lucky no-one pulled over....". One of my aunts actually made us cry with laughter even though we were shocked, at her tale of confronting a flasher who pulled a knife on her and demanded she get her boobs out. She actually clobbered him with a handbag and chased him! My granddad told lots of stories too, especially about us kids testing his and my grandmas patience and he filled me in on our Chinese family history. The bambino charmed everyone, ate them out of house and home, and tried to lock my granddad out of the house which had us in hysterics. As I was leaving, I tripped over the step, caught my jeans on the door, and ripped off a chunk of wood. I looked up and everyone including my granddad was in stitches laughing. It is exactly what my grandma would have wanted.

I have to do the eulogy which is daunting but an honourable task. The day before, I'll be going to see my grandma for the last time so I can say goodbye, even though I don't want to believe I won't see her again. Each time I think of her, I can feel her gruff but warm hugs and I remember the countless 'crusts' that she made me as a child, where instead of me having the typical Jamaican patty with meat, I just got the pastry and it was amazing. She'll never get to bicker with my granddad again and he's sleeping alone for the first time in more than 60 years and she she won't see me get married or have more kids, or do many of the things I promised. I've been worried about her being alone in the funeral home but I know that's not my grandma that was full of life. She'll have no more cooking, cleaning, or back pain to contend with and maybe she's playing loads of bingo (I used to think she went to church a lot but it turned out 'church' was the codeword for 'bingo') with the friends she loved and missed that had gone before, but she's so terribly missed by all of us and I really wish she was here.