My Grandad died last night. He’d been ill for a while since being diagnosed with lung cancer earlier in the year but over the last few weeks he went downhill rapidly. In some ways we’re glad it’s over for him but of course we really, really miss him. He was such a wonderful person, a true gentleman. I have so many memories: Of him helping me to build wooden planes and playing together in his shed. Of going for walks in the countryside with him finding me a stick that I could use for hiking like his and stripping off the branches and twigs so I could walk with it. Of always wanting the best for Charlotte and Me. Of last Summer, clearing our shed of ivy and him barely stopping to eat while the rest of us faltered in the heat. Of him playing in their garden with Beebe and helping her carry teddy bears and dolls around. Of him holding his grand-daughters and smiling.
Of how happy he was at my Sister’s wedding last year
Of him being my Grandad.
After some discussion we decided to tell Bee that he’d gone away. She said: “He’s gone to the little house with the elephants” followed by “he’s gone upstairs to see the boats”. I’m sure he’d like that.