Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Dear Grandad,
I miss you. I'm sorry that I wasn't perfect for you. But I know that you loved me. And I know that you always loved me. I remember you taking me into the study at your old house in Tenterden and showing me all of your books. You let me play with the toy Celtic bus even though it was probably worth a fortune on Antiques Roadshow and you found me paper to put in your shredder. I remember I once shredded your post from that morning by accident, and you just laughed and spent ages sellotaping it back together.
I'm trying to teach Katie all about you. I want her to know what I wonderful Grandfather she has. I want her to love you as much as I love you. I want her to be proud of you. I want her to know you as best as she can seeing as she was only a baby when you died. At the moment I just show her pictures, but as she gets older I'll start telling her more stories.
Let's see, other memories. When I was moving house when I was about three or four - I was devestated. Mainly because the family who used to live there had a dog, and I was terrified that the dog would still be there when I moved in. Dogs scared me senseless at the time (silly me), but I was also upset because that was my home. Other people didn't have to move, so why should I? The idea that this new house was so much bigger than our old one was lost on me. But I digress. Me and Caroline were sitting looking solemn and you came in and smiled at us.
'I can take my teeth out.'
Caroline, who knew everything because she was six months older than me, flicked back her fiery red hair and corrected you quite firmly. No you couldn't. The idea was quite absurd.
So you sneezed, and your teeth came out in your hands.
We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to sneeze and get our teeth to fall out too. All sadness of moving house quite forgotton. So thank you for that.
I think that's one of the only memories I have of you before your accident. And for that I am so sorry. But I remember that day so clearly, as if it were yesterday. I remember it because I was looking forward to watching The Simpsons England Episode on TV. I can't watch clips of that in adverts without crying anymore. The Mum answered her phone whilst driving. I lectured her, but she told me to be quiet. Then we were speeding on the wall to the William Harvey. We were there for ages before you were wheeled in. Until that moment we'd (me and Caroline) been told that you'd been hit by a car and were coming into the hospital. But until I saw you in that headbrace, it didn't fully click in. Those orangeyred headboxes that you were wearing to stop you from becoming paralyzed is something that you see in Casualty or Holby City - not right in front of you. And not on your Granddad.
I'm so sorry. You must have been so scared. And you changed that day as well. You were so active before your accident. And so on the ball all the time. The next thing we know, you are diagnosed with dementia. Is it wrong that I blame the man who was driving the car at the time? Who hit you and goodness knows how many miles an hour while you were on a pedestrian ( I think) crossing. I think that you would tell me that I need to forgive him. I'll try, Granddad. I'll try.
Towards the end, when I was about fourteen, I remember seeing you in hospital. You were so weak and frail, and I could tell that you were so unhappy and embarassed. Your dressing gown had come open leaving you exposed in your underwear. We all pretended not to notice while you struggled with your frail shakey hands to do it up again. You were quite proud. Not in a bad sense. But I know that it would have made it worse if we'd done it up for you as if you were a child. I think when you managed to do it up, you felt a small gleam of triumph - you'd achieved something, despite everything. It might have been a small thing to me at the time, but now writing this I realise that it could have been really quite big for you.
Some people thought that you had gone since you'd been diagnosed with dementia. They thought that you were just a shell of a man that they once knew. But I knew that you were still my Granddad. You still ate far too many sweets and slipped them to me behind Grandma's back - even though she'd said five seconds beforehand that I wasn't to have any because it was dinner time soon. You still gave me far too much money as a gift whenever I left. Money that I would give back and that you would hide in my pocket/bag etc. It was kind of a mutual understanding that this was how it worked.
You also made jokes with it. One night (I can't remember if you were still living in Tenterden or not) I was at the Priest's house for my confirmation lesson. The next thing I know, you walk in the room.
Oh my goodness, you gave me such a fright. I was convinced that you'd wandered off, and somewhere Grandma was panicking because you disappeared. I went up to you and introduced you to my friends, and you smiled and said hello. And when I asked what you were doing here, you smiled and puffed out your chest and said quite proudly. 'I'm a knight.'
Right.
You then went on to tell me about how you slayed dragons and rescued the princess. You called me a princess.
Oh dear, I remember thinking, he's finally cracked it.
The Priest then came along and greeted you. He laughed when he saw the look on my face. And laughed harder when you announced again that you were a knight. He explained to me that it was a club that you and some others had. But rather than telling me that, you decided to have a little joke and pretend that you'd gone round the bend. Thank you, Granddad. You gave me five minutes of utter shock only to be delighted that you'd been telling a joke. You were stilly my Granddad no matter what anyone else said.
The last time I saw you was at the Nursing Home where you'd recently moved in to. I don't think that you were really all that impressed with it. But then again, you hadn't been there all that long. We had the same conversation twice.
'Oh that's a very pretty necklace.'
'Thank you, Granddad.'
'I bet you love it.'
We also discussed, as we did every time we saw one another, how your mother was also named Marie. You know what, on that day you didn't look for confirmation to Grandma as to what my name was. You're such a polite man, that when you didn't know what a persons name was - you'd rather wait for it to eventually be said before asking somewhat outright, but this time you knew instantly. I was amazed. And so so thankful.
I'm ashamed of myself. On our last visit Deal or No Deal was playing and the contestents were dressed up as clowns. I wanted to go home and watch it with the sound on because it seemed funny. I can't believe that. I cannot tell you how much I am disgusted with myself. It doesn't matter that I didn't know that this was the last time that I was going to see you. What I did, (or rather, thought), was inexcusable and really quite unforgiveable. When I left, I said to you, 'See you soon, Granddad.'
And you didn't say it back. I think you knew.
As I walked out of the door and past the window, I took a final glance of you. And I swear to God I didn't see the Granddad that I'd grown up with through that window. I saw a young man of about twenty, proud, laughing and happy. You raised a strong arm - far stronger than it had been in years, and waved and laughed.
An HONEST man here lies at rest,
As e'er God with his image blest;
the friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so informed;
If there is another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.
I love you Granddad. And always will. I wish that you could come back and be a Knight again and slay my dragons for me. But I guess that I'm a big girl now, and I need to do that for myself. xx
And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
Let me tell you that I love you, and I think about you all the time. Caledonia's been calling me now I'm going home. And if I should become a stranger, you know that it would make me more than sad. Caledonia's been everything I've ever had.
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