At the end of June my amazing, funny and brilliant grandad died a year after my grandma. The post that I wrote about my grandma was read at her funeral, so it seems right to share with you the piece I wrote for my grandad.
During grandad’s lifetime, I wonder why he didn’t patent ‘grandad jokes’. At home when someone tells a groaner of a joke, there’s always someone in the room to cry out ‘that’s a grandad joke!’Grandma and grandad, it probably comes as no surprise, were very big on manners and taught my cousins and I from an early age to ask if we could leave the table at the end of a meal. I would say to them ‘please may I leave the table?’ Grandad, with a grin, would say ‘as long as you don’t take it with you.’ So I learned to say ‘please may I leave the table here and go away?’ much to his amusement. And I did say it every time, because if ever I forgot, he would pounce!His sense of humour and his kind nature made him a wonderful teacher. Maths lessons at the living room table with grandad were not a chore and he would simplify things and make jokes along the way. When I was there with my cousins he would alternate the lessons with play, taking us with him and grandma to Rutland water. We would play at the parks and maybe have ice cream if it was a warm day. Through games and lessons, scrabble and crosswords, we learned with grandma and grandad what we didn’t learn at school and it helped us to do well.And when I was eight, grandad gave me perhaps the greatest gift of all; he began teaching me to play the piano. I can remember clearly the first scale that he taught me, and the thrill of each new book as I improved over time. One Christmas he came to my hometown early in the morning to hear me play the keyboard in church. It was a piece we had both worked hard on because it was tricky for me. He wrote the fingering numbers above the difficult notes and listened to me practise over and over. That morning in church I was nervous in front of the eyes of the school and local residents, but I played as if only to grandad. When his eyesight meant he couldn’t drive to our house as regularly, I had to keep up the piano myself. I realised that the grounding my grandad had given me meant I could keep improving on my own, so I played through my GCSEs, wrote some of my own pieces, and learned to play the pieces that defined me. Through university I would sneak off to the practise rooms late at night and belt out exam stress on the old pianos to keep me sane. The gift of music that grandad gave me sums up perfectly the role he played in my life. He taught me well and gave me the tools I needed, and when it was time for me to go it alone he encouraged me along. Like the duets we played where he would give an emphatic nod to my ten year old self when it was my turn to join in, he and grandma urged me along with cheers and guidance.He never let me feel alone. When I announced that I was moving to Italy at eighteen, his immediate response was ‘give me your address and we can write to each other.’ He became my pen friend and his worldly advice arrived in the form of letters. When I confessed that I was struggling to cook for myself, I returned from an afternoon in Milan to find a parcel on my bed. Grandad had sent me a student vegetarian cookbook. We often wrote of my failures and successes (mostly failures!) in the kitchen. In the meantime he was busy learning vegetarian recipes himself, and learned to make a mean veggie burger. Our letters continued through university and I have kept every single one.Grandad at the other end of the phone was always ready to laugh along with my exploits when I became a teacher in Japan, whilst always offering the right piece of advice at the right time. I feel closer to him for having been a teacher the time I was there, and it certainly deepened my respect for him. His lesson ideas inspired me, like they also inspired my aunt, and his tales of being a teacher tickled me. I wish I could have seen his class the day he announced to everyone ‘right! Today we’re going to count the blades of grass in the school field!’My grandad was a wise, kind and gentle man. He was my role model and my spiritual guide. I owe him everything I am today. From maths and music, to love and devotion, his lessons on life have guided me from the little girl I was to the woman I am today. Thank you grandad, I will never forget you.
