He was always so far away.
Someone I referred to but hardly ever saw –
“Where do your grandparents live?”
“Oh, in Devon.”
Rarely anything more . . .
So shallow, imparting little meaning.
Never conveying who or what he was to me –
The depths of the underlying feelings.
--- --- ---
I loved his voice (“Ello Rich!”), and wish I had heard it with greater regularity –
It’s only in my memory now.
I should have called more, but I know he didn’t mind,
Pragmatic as he was – he knew how busy my life is, and what a busy life is to live.
And even when I did call, the conversations were always clipped, predictable,
Almost scripted:
“How’s work?”
“You keeping well?”
“Family alright?”
“Here’s Nan” . . .
Despite being a great talker,
He was far from the best of communicators, and he couldn’t do small talk;
This is exactly how I am too.
I find comfort in the parallels.
Whilst I certainly should have called more, I’m so very glad I called at all.
--- --- ---
He was, at once, the security and safety
Of a nostalgic memory,
And the safety and security
Of a nostalgic now.
Hearing him, seeing, and thinking about him
All stirred thoughts
Of happy snapshots from my past,
Of funny stories from his youth,
Of persistent reliability from a distant present.
Not with me, but always in me.
He was safe.
He was secure.
--- --- ---
Over the years, he got smaller as a got bigger,
And I never got used to the beard disappearing.
But in my memory, I keep my version of him secure:
The mischievous, boyish glint in his eye
(This never left him);
His gnarled old knuckles
Crowning a pair of hands that knew how to fix anything;
Big teeth and sticky-out ears
Offset by a swarthy, roguish handsomeness,
Like a weathered wooden post exposed to years of sun and rain in equal measure,
The elements only improving the look
Of a solid, resilient
Bull of a man.
Age took his body, but the strength never left him –
It simply went inwards.
Tough as old boots and dignified to the end . . .
I’m thankful he has passed a fraction of these qualities on to me.
--- --- ---
I have a living photo album in my head:
Images of long walks down Devon lanes,
Quiet, winding roads with high tangled banks either side -
Walking with him;
The smell of varnish in his small shed,
Pungent, mixed with the scent of wood and sawdust -
Observing him;
The taste of fresh, earthy vegetables dug up from his patch,
Washed and prepared in the kitchen afterwards -
Helping him;
The sounds of a Looney Tunes VHS playing in the lounge,
(“I say, I say, boy!”) –
Laughing with him;
The feel of the wooden aeroplane he made for me,
Spray painted silver and beautiful in its simplicity –
Appreciating him.
He, himself, was beautiful in his own simplicity,
And astonishing in his complexity –
A real juxtaposition.
To me, the way he created my simple aeroplane was complex.
My memories and feelings are both simple and complex.
This contradictory man was complicit in creating them –
I am grateful to him for this.
--- --- ---
You’re gone now, Grandad,
And won’t be coming back.
Overall, my life is unchanged by this –
Everything in my world remains - essentially - the same, and life goes on . . .
And yet, there’s something missing now.
That steady beacon burning in the distance has gone out;
That fundamental element of my consciousness has been extinguished.
I cannot even begin to explain how sad this makes me.
The man I foolishly told myself would be around forever,
The only man who remained consistent in my life,
The one who I looked to when there was no one else to show me
What exactly it means to be a man,
Has died.
My emotional stability: off balance -
I feel deep despair . . .
 
But then I stop and think,
And I realise -
That the seed of strength and resilience I carry in my blood - from you -
Continues to grow and unfurl within me.
And I realise -
That I won’t let your fire that I have inside me die out.
And I realise -
That if I can grow to be even half the man that you were
Then one day, I too will die a happy man.
--- --- ---
Thank you for being there, in all the ways you were, and all the ways you still are.
--- --- ---
I love you Grandad,
It’s time to rest now.
--- --- ---