So far, this year, 2009 , there have been 2 major and life changing events. One of those, was a few months into the year when we lost my lovely Gran. It was a heartbreaking event, and made me realise the meaning of ‘ its better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before’. My Gran went ‘home’ and I am still here, but know its better to have loved and lost her then to have not had her to love in the first place … if that makes sense.
anyway, I have been thinking this afternoon about my grandparents. My Grandad died in 2004, ending a 64 year marriage … obviously ending only because of death (and yeah, my Gran was well into her 90’s!). They were beautiful together and always had a rule of never letting the sun go down on their arguments if there ever was one. Seemed to work pretty well.
I will write a tribute to her soon, and although it was quite a few months ago, it still seems pretty raw. Because of how much she meant to me. But I did find the writing I wrote years ago, as a tribute to my Grandad. It is as follows :
I want to write about a man. A man who was an amazing man. A gentle and kind person, who would do anything to help anyone. A man who was dedicated to his wife, his daughter and his grandchildren. A man who was modest, and gracious. Gracious in everything he did. Even gracious in his dislike for the odd person here and there. A man with the utmost integrity. A man who the villiage called on. The one to help the young mum locked out the house. The one to help the corner shop when it flooded. The one who made the font lid in the old rickety villiage church in which he had been christened, married and eventually buried in. He was the man everyone would say hello to in the little market place when he went to get the shopping, or the newspaper. He was the one who would sit all afternoon watching the snooker, and falling alseep, then insisting he was wide awake all the way through with a big grin. He was the one who tenderly stood by and cared for my Gran after all her ills, and when she became weak and frail. He became her main carer. He was stubborn to, only having a landline phone installed five years ago, in which he protested against all the way through (my mother continued and went ahead with sorting it anyhow). A man who radiated calmness, and love in everything he did. Everything he did for everyone else, but everything he did for me, my brother and my mum. My grandparents took care of while my mum was on her own with two brats to feed, a house to run and a full time shift work job.
My grandad was the one to give time and wisdom to my brother and myself. To give us his life experience through words, and actions. To give us experiences in other ways, to take us tree climbing, to let us play in the fields at the back of their house. He was the one who made us feel proud whatever we did. Made us feel loved without making a big “to-do” of it. He was happy (and my gran still is) to support us in whatever life choices we made.
A unique and amazing person. So is my Gran who is still with us. And my mum, but I am writing right now about my Grandad.
Ever think you dont tell someone you love them enough? I wish I had that opportunity now to pick up that phone, and ring that number still in my head, and say “I love You”. I wander if he knew that. I wander while he were laying there dying, he KNEW we loved him. I hope so. I dearly hope so.
The world is a poorer place without my grandad in it. My life is different without my grandad. Towards the end of his time on this earth, I didnt see him regularly. I worked shifts, no excuse but it didnt happen. I wish I had been to see him more. I cant. It cant change now.
Staff meeting today included a short discussion on funerals, and the bible study talk also got onto giving Glory to God. In all that we do, and funerals giving Glory to God. I remember sitting in my grandads funeral service, which was in honour of my him and trying to thank to God for his life, with eyes on the Lord, and I dont remember being that focussed. I just want to give thanks now for the amazing man who touched so many lives, in so many way, and maybe never even knew it.
When I was a little girl, and had my dreams of walking down the aisle, it was my grandad who was walking that walk with me. I honestly can say I had that naieve belief that my grandad would always be there. And you know, even two years on its a blinding shock that actually my grandad isnt here now. My granddad wont be forgotten though. And although I have little material possession of things that remind me of him, in my heart and memory I have a world of things that I think of fondly.
I dont know how grief is supposed to work, and as I talk to people, more and more say they dont know either. I sometimes think to myself I need to grow up, but in my heart I know the delayed reaction is finally coming to a halt, and it has been for months. Maybe even since I moved. There comes a point I think maybe when you just got to say what you are thinking, cry what your crying for and just let go. Not easy though.
I cry for the Grandad gone.
The Grandad who I know is looking down, and I hope as he is doing so he is proud.
Anyway enough …
The title has come into my head now.
Simply my grandad.