Hard to believe it’s been a whole year and we still haven’t been able to hold a funeral for my Grandpa. With all the difficulties of travel restrictions and getting to and from England, it’s had to be postponed.
The last time I saw him, I said my goodbye on a video call just a few days before April 5, 2020. He was in the hospital and we knew he didn’t have long. My aunt miraculously was able to be with him and managed to set up a video call for all of us grandchildren (and my mum) to say our goodbyes. I wrote my words on a notepad in big black letters. I told him I missed him and that I loved him, and wrote down some poetry that he had always loved.
He was deaf, you see, and so writing had always been the best way to communicate....
.....We left England when I was 6 years old but my parents did our best to visit when we could. Growing up we always kept in touch, sometimes through TTY but mostly through emails. When we visited, we would sit in his little living room and have a chat. As little girl, I learned the alphabet in British sign language and much to his delight, I would try spell out words to have a conversation with him. Between that, his lip reading abilities, and the handy notepad and pen - we were able to communicate.
He always loved treating those he loved. When we would visit, as children, and teenagers, and even as adults, he would always slip some money into our hands, urging us to, “Go get yourself something from the sweet shop.” He was always so very generous and kind and wanted all of us to feel special and treated. He would take us out to lunch or for dessert and coffee some place. He was a lover of food, and as such, loved to treat others in that way too.
Whenever we went to visit him, we would draw up a chair across from him, and he would hand over a pen and notepad, and with smiles and pauses, we would have a conversation. He had a big booming voice that filled up the room, and he was such an expressive warm character.
When I was in high school, I reached out to him and asked if he would tell me about his life, and his meticulous memory and attention to detail led to some amazing stories from the time he was born, all the way up to leaving Africa and coming back to England. I kept the letters printed, in a blue folder, through our move from South Carolina, USA, to Ontario, Canada. Somehow it survived the move and many years later, in 2012, I made the letters into a book, which was presented to him as a gift on his 89th (I think) birthday. He was overjoyed to receive it and it has been such a lovely keepsake to have and share with family and those who knew him, over the years. Now it holds even more value, with his absence.
Some favourite quotes from the book:
“We children used to love to stand on one side when a train was approaching and allow ourselves to be enveloped in billowing white steam/smoke. Then we would immediately dash to the other side to get ‘steamed up’ again!”
“The girl I sat next to was called Muriel Thompson, and we ‘sealed’ our friendship with the exchange of a little glass pig for a piece of chocolate.”
“It was a time of pea soup fogs when a car couldn’t see the road in front of it. A driver would pay me a penny to walk in front of the car holding a white handkerchief.”
“One day on the way home I was showing off to a friend how I swing the basket of egg above my head, but then I hesitated at the wrong moment, so there was scrambled raw eggs all over the pavement!”
“I remember once we got hold of an old umbrella and tried parachuting off the roof! Why we didn’t break a leg I can’t imagine!”
(Talking about playing pranks on a school teacher) “Things like sprinkling sneezing powder on the piano keys, or putting a frog under the piano cover before he lifted it.”
“There was a ‘buzz’ in the college that all the prettiest girls were to be found in Nottingham or in Leicester. So - naturally - we young men applied in droves for teaching posts in those two cities.”
(Talking about my mum) “Jane was a little monkey and wouldn’t stay in her bedroom... She used to get very cross when I ordered her back to bed!” (I can relate as a mum now of two boys who pull the same thing.)
............
I made a little video of him many years ago. How precious it is in particular, now, to hear his voice and see him opening the door and welcoming us in. Hard to believe that the next time I visit England, there will be another family living in his home. Watching this video, makes his absence from this world feel so surreal.
When I made this video, the song by Joshua Radin felt so fitting. Grandpa really was such a wonderful kind soul and a friend to many. Even though we moved away, I also felt like he was a Grandpa who really worked hard to pursue a relationship with all of us grandkids and that meant a lot to me. It was twice as hard for him with his deafness, but he always show great pleasure at any opportunity to connect.
I was thinking this past weekend about how he had expressed in his last days his eagerness to get to heaven and see Jesus. I got quite teary thinking about how he would have closed his eyes for the last time, his hand held tightly by my aunt, his body weak with pain, and opened his eyes again to Jesus’ embrace, and the sounds of heaven. What an incredible transformation to have been deaf one minute, and fully whole the next, redeemed and home at last, in the place we were created to be.
I just felt so thankful and so happy for him. I miss him. I miss his emails, and his booming voice, he ever-kind words of encouragement. But I’m happy for him, that he’s no longer in pain, and he’s in a place that overflows with wonder and peace now.
I hope there’s a chance this year for a funeral to happen. I hope for the chance to gather with family and properly mourn him, however that’s possible for our family from all corners of the world. But until then, I hold him in these memories.
I love you Grandpa.
