Dear Grampa
My Mum called me this morning.
All she said was, 'I'm in Wales...' and I just knew. I knew you had left
us.
A coal miner, you had black lung, and had been having
problems breathing. I'm so glad you weren't in hospital when you closed your
eyes for the last time. I'm so glad you were at home. For me, it will always be
the warmest, most welcoming home in Wales. I picture you in the armchair near
the fire, having an och (kip) and
Gramma on the sofa opposite watching The Voice (Come on the girl from
Cwmparc!).
Ninety one years young and dancing two nights a week until a few years
ago. Any music would get you and Gramma dancing around the living room. I can
hear you laugh now. A whisky in your
hand.
As I sit here, I'm overwhelmed
with grief. Think of the good memories,
people say. I only have good memories and they are making me cry; I wanted to
go on making more.
I know I'm so lucky to have had
you as my Grampa. Everyone who knew you is already missing you. You were always
so kind and generous. My Mum once told me how she had called you from London when
she was young and homesick, and you had just got in the car and driven all the
way to bring her home. It was no trouble. You would always go out of your way to help people.
I loved the way you would sneak twenty pound notes in our hands and say,
don't tell your grandmother! As if she didn't know. As if she hadn't just snuck a twenty pound note in
our hands a minute earlier!
Grampa, you are Christmas; top of the table and never too serious to wear a paper crown. You
are holidays in Spain; sitting in a fold up chair by the river. You are walks up the Bwlch leading us to the
winberries for Gramma's pie.
Oh Grampa, if you could see the tissues surrounding my lap top right
now, you'd probably tell me not to be so twp! You would want all the family
to get together and celebrate you... and we will. It's just going to hurt for a
while. But that's because you were so loved.
I love you Grampa and hope you are at peace,
Your granddaughter
Emily
.png)
