It's a cliche to say that the death of an elderly person who's led a full and happy life is less tragic than, say a young child. But I remember the moment that my parents told my grandmother that my grandad had died. I suddenly realised that she had lost the man who she had woken up next to everyday and had never been more than a few miles away from for the past 50 years... and I realised that that's as heartbreaking as it gets. Fifteen years on, she's living life to the full and I still can't work out how she survived the loss. I can't imagine being that strong.