Just a forward this is the first time I've ever spoken about my personal experience with my grandad and his death, so I'm sorry if this comes across as an incoherent ramble.
Most days if he wasn't in his chair in his living room he would be in his shed making something. The musty shed I would of in and interfere with everything, he was always looking for things 'he' lost. When I was younger I thought I was like a spy, sneaking around and touching and looking at his things without his knowledge. Although now I realise I was not a spy and he did indeed know I was moving everything. He was kind like that indulging my fantasy of being a master spy.
He looked after me and my mum in tough times and when my mum was working long hours to afford to look after me, I would go to his and my nanny's house. Most days I would be there and he would always be disappointed when I couldn't come over (which I learnt recently from my mum).
And he loved his horse, an ex-racer that loved him to death. A horse that he rode all the time and rode for the last time a week before he died. He loved him (and his previous horse) like they were his children. Whatever they needed/wanted he would get them no matter the cost or effort.
He was so so strong and I miss him so much honestly. He died ages ago now (6-8 years (I don't want to look it up as I know I'll feel more depressed)) and only this and last year I've allowed myself to grieve. He was such a wonderful man and an even better grandad that acted as my father figure in life and I'm glad that I'm allowing myself to remember him now instead of blocking any memories of him.
Most days if he wasn't in his chair in his living room he would be in his shed making something. The musty shed I would of in and interfere with everything, he was always looking for things 'he' lost. When I was younger I thought I was like a spy, sneaking around and touching and looking at his things without his knowledge. Although now I realise I was not a spy and he did indeed know I was moving everything. He was kind like that indulging my fantasy of being a master spy.
He looked after me and my mum in tough times and when my mum was working long hours to afford to look after me, I would go to his and my nanny's house. Most days I would be there and he would always be disappointed when I couldn't come over (which I learnt recently from my mum).
And he loved his horse, an ex-racer that loved him to death. A horse that he rode all the time and rode for the last time a week before he died. He loved him (and his previous horse) like they were his children. Whatever they needed/wanted he would get them no matter the cost or effort.
He was so so strong and I miss him so much honestly. He died ages ago now (6-8 years (I don't want to look it up as I know I'll feel more depressed)) and only this and last year I've allowed myself to grieve. He was such a wonderful man and an even better grandad that acted as my father figure in life and I'm glad that I'm allowing myself to remember him now instead of blocking any memories of him.
