Bert!

My Grampy was absolutely nothing short of yummy; yummalicious in fact! Like most men of his generation and like most men with wives like my Nanny, he barely got a word in edgeways. He would always sit silently, cogitating and contemplating but, he did so with nothing but pure loving and with a heart of gold. He was so caring and everything he felt, he felt with passion and with a huge heart that seemed to just envelop you. Just like my Dad did. That’s obviously where my Dad got his loving nature from. My Grampy’s passing was certainly equally as momentous in the gap it left in my life. For more than one reason.

What I will tell you in this post is really hard for me to do so. Mainly because you will probably judge me for what I did, everyone judges. It’s a massively hurtful and negative part of life and the sad thing is that you don’t realise just how hurtful and negative it is, until you are judged yourself. Human beings can be so strange. Once you react in a certain way, say something  hurtful or act in a hurtful manner, you can not ever take it back. (Something i often tell my boyfriend, yet he still occasionally tells me to ‘Bugger Off’ when he is particularly mad with me.) Naturally, this is a most rare occurrence.

This is something I have experienced more recently when I split from my husband and also when my Dad died (but, this was in another way) When my Dad died, people actually crossed the road to avoid having to talk to me as they were embarrassed about what to say. I think they were more worried about making me upset and subsequently being embarrassed themselves.What they didn’t realise was that this was actually ten times more hurtful than simply putting their foot in it. Don’t get me wrong, I have done it too. We have all seen someone in the supermarket that we just friend requested on Facebook and then realised we actually don’t know them at all. To avoid it being awkward, we simply pretend we didn’t see them. If you’re particularly clever and spend just a little longer looking at the Wotsits, you can time it perfectly. I know it, you know it 😉

I really honestly try not to do that anymore. I definitely don’t do it in situations where I know someone has had a bereavement or a marriage break up. I am not perfect in any way but, this is one big lesson i have learned from the way that ignorance has made me feel.

Thinking about it now,I never noticed it happen when my Mum died but, I suspect that that’s because my Dad was the chosen recipient at that time. He never mentioned it to me but, i know he would have noticed. I was too busy being angry at that time however to notice anything I expect.

My Mum and her beloved Grandad.

My lovely Grampy called me Sarah Jane: of course that’s not my name, I don’t know why he did, he just did. I much preferred this to when my Nanny would refer to me as Sherry (her sausage dog). They also called me Shuie. My Dad’s side of the family are the only people that called me Shuie and they still do. We all used to be so close. We would spend all our time together and had such a great relationship. We aren’t that close now really! It may not surprise you to know that I was angry with them too. I felt like they left me to deal with my Dad dying, left me to deal with it on my own and I was very very bitter. I have told my cousin how I felt but, I honestly don’t feel that way any more. For many reasons.I felt they should have reacted in a certain way and I never actually asked for help, even though I very much needed it. Ironically, writing this,I hope they are not angry with me for feeling that way.

Anyway, when my Mum died, so did my Grampy. I don’t mean just mentally or emotionally either: he did actually just die. I’m not sure of the exact time scale (I was mentally, a little busy at that time) but, it was weeks. He gave up on life, that was obvious. He adored my Mum, most people did but, when she died, you could see part of him ebb away. Don’t get me wrong, he had lots of loving family and grandchildren and he certainly adored them all alike but, he just couldn’t really accept it. He couldn’t accept what had happened to her. When my Mum’s coffin was dropped as it was being lowered into the ground, we thought he had died then. His legs gave way. He would have caught it if he could.

I remember going out in the car with my Grandparents. Their car was red (that’s such a girl thing to say) and as you drove along, you could see the road through the floor: I’m guessing the MOT system was slightly different in those days.

My Dad on the right, Grampy in the middle and my Uncle Barry on the left.

They actually lived next door to us. We had a Cafe and my Dad had taken it over from them. When my Dad was 11, he used to open up the cafe when they went out for the day and even though he moved away and was a chef in a big hotel in Oxford for a while (that’s where he and my Mum met), he still came back and took it over from them. I guess he felt like he was 11 again. He never took a day off though…never. Even the day he flicked a tree in his eye and quite obviously scratched his cornea, he just popped on some sunglasses and opened up the cafe. He didn’t care they were my sunglasses and had bright pink detail on the side.

My Grampy and Nanny outside the cafe.

My Grampy was a minister of a Spiritualist Church. I never really knew about that side of him, he never talked about it much. It does explain where I get it from though. I have certain friends who remain to be particularly perturbed by my premonition plane crash dreams but, you either believe or you don’t. I once read somewhere that if you believe, no evidence is necessary and if you don’t believe, no evidence is possible. My belief in spiritualists has always been very important to me and I really have no room in my life for people that mock or are unsupportive of that. Believe what you like but, if there is even one nano possibility of life after death, I am going to grab onto it with both hands. Anyone that loves me knows that and why the hell not? I think I am allowed.

My Nanny had a ‘healing room’. It always scared the complete bejesus out of me! Ironically, on the wall opposite was a huge tapestry of The Last Supper. I’m sure Jesus’ head would move when I went past. I know he had better things to do, like giving himself up for all mankind but, really, when you’re 7, who thinks about that. Quite unfortunately, the healing room was right next to the toilet in their house and although I would hang on as long as was physically possible, when nature really came a knocking I would have to perform the Linford Christie sprint to use the facilities.I always imagined my Nanny in there with big hoop earrings and hunched over a crystal ball; Like Mystic Meg, only much much wrinklier. The healing room that is, not the toilet!

When I was 18, my Nanny said something to me that will and has stayed with me forever. When having a family party to celebrate, she had too much whiskey and had spent the usual half hour telling us that she was from Bethnal Green and singing ‘Knees up Mother Braaaaan’ or some such East End ditty. We had laughed in the way we always did and she very kindly decided to say to me, ‘You are going to have a hard life you know’. The problem is, with actually having quite a hard life, i still think to myself; is that it now or will it continue to be hard. I am always waiting for the next thing. I have never quite forgiven her for that. Until the day I die, I shall always think about it. It was like a life sentence she gave me. Quite literally.

The day my Grampy died will be etched in my brain like no other. I was 16 still. My Mum died in hospital, My Dad died in hospital. Ruth died in the ambulance (just) but, my Grampy died just sat in his chair. I know that because I was there. It was the first time that the reassurance of my normality had betrayed me. The last thing he heard would have been my jibber jabber. I know he wouldn’t have minded. He loved being in his chair. Apart from when he watched the racing and then he liked being knelt on the floor with his face pressed against the television screen. I think he just did it because he was used to the usual, ‘Albeeeeeert…..you’re eyes will go square’

After a while, when he didn’t answer me, I looked over at him and I knew that he was gone. In the words of Tommy Cooper, it literally was just like that! I’m not being obtuse, my Grampy would have laughed at this description, that was the kind of man he was. He was almost yellow, like he wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there any more. We were on our own in that room and do you know what I did? As my Cousin and my Nanny came back in to the room, I passed them, I went to the front door and I went home (remember it was next door) As i was shutting their front door, I heard my Nanny cry out his name.

I went to my room and I put on my music and I waited for someone to come and get my Dad, which obviously they did minutes after. I couldn’t face it. I just couldn’t face it. I knew he was gone. I couldn’t and didn’t leave him alone but, I couldn’t be the one to tell my Dad. I have told my Cousins about this and I of course, told my Dad but, I didn’t tell him till years later. He thought I had just missed his passing and truthfully, he was grateful of that. How my head was then and what I had just dealt with, I just couldn’t do it. Would I do it differently? If circumstances were the same I probably wouldn’t. I was ashamed for a long time at how I handled it. It was really just too much and the more people I told the better I felt. That really is true of life. Never sit on things for long…particularly the floor with your face against the television….Albeeeeeeeeeert 🙂

I miss my Grampy still. I am sorry Grampy.