In loving memory

This week I received the call informing me that my Grandad had passed away, after a long illness. I'm told that, contrary to the last, he died on the stroke of midnight, leading to confusion over which date should go on the certificate.

He was......well, I suppose he was a pretty ordinary man really. The history books won't be writing about him. He was, however, everything you could possibly want from a grandfather, and I adored him.

He kept bees on his allotment, and let me turn the handle on the big spinning drum thing he used to get the honey out of the combs. He held back the world's most vicious cat so that I could put food in her bowl without losing an arm. He fixed up a bike from a car-boot sale for me and timed races, always encouraging me to go faster, because why shouldn't I do anything the boys did and beat them at it? He taught me to patch a punctured tyre. He opened the cupboard in the room I slept in at their house, to prove there wasn't a monster living in there.

Once I reached adulthood, he was always the one who told me to take no notice when people were getting at me. He was the reason I stuck out my degree studies when they felt like more than I could handle, because he wanted so badly to put up my graduation photo with the others, and disappointing him was somehow worse than disappointing everybody else. He was the first person in my recollection to ever tell me they were proud of me.

He was a man who worked hard all his life to care for his family, and to give them the opportunities he didn't have, and he meant so much to all of us. I'm going to miss him - probably even more than I realise right now, when it hasn't fully sunk in yet - but I'm glad he's not in pain any more. He deserves a rest.

Rest in peace, Grandad. I love you.