Today my Grandad was cremated. We aren’t having a service, at some point we will scatter his ashes together with his loved ones.
It feels very strange. Aside from the fact I’ve seen him nearly every week of my life, it somehow felt like it’s not real. Until today. Until I knew he’d been cremated, and that he is in fact no longer with us. With me. I had a foolish belief that he would always be here with his smart mouth and dark humour. There’s never been an occasion I’ve been with him that he hasn’t made me laugh, usually within the first few minutes.
I didn’t know how I would feel today but it did give me pause. I knew he was being cremated this morning, and so I felt uneasy until midday came around. And without a service I felt so lonely on his behalf. (I do that a lot, feel other peoples feelings.) So I wrote him a letter. I won’t share that here, perhaps I’ll read it when we scatter his ashes. But for now that’s my own deeply personal writing.
My Grandad was a complicated man and I felt I could really relate to him on that. My truth with him was that he was a wonderful, strong and gentle man who was grateful for every visit or encounter. He taught me so much, and I know family gatherings will feel a little less whole without him. Every Christmas I’d make sure he was sat next to my sister and I’d sit across from her. Seeing them wind each other up, in a jovial way, was something I’ve enjoyed over the years. Not in a laugh at making someone else suffer sense, but in a he gave as good as he got and loved it. He just wanted a good bit of banter.
This man introduced me to his children, and in turn their children. As a result my sister and I grew up regularly seeing and making lifelong memories with this extended family of ours. Beautiful memories as a result of my wonderful Grandad, and of course my Grandma. One of the strongest women I know to match one of the strongest men I know.
But in his death I’ve learned more about how complicated he was. I know more on the pain he caused others. That wasn’t the man I knew, or the man I ever met. For that I am forever grateful because he ensured he gave me the absolute best of him. For those he didn’t always give his best to I can only wish he had. I wish more than anything that they only ever knew the man I did. But I also know that’s not how life works. It hasn’t changed my views on him because it doesn’t change my truth and my experience. But I know I can respect and honour the experiences others had without diminishing mine.
I truly believe the hurt he caused came from a place of fear, mostly fear of vulnerability. I mean I don’t know, I could be way of the mark here, but that’s my view. It doesn’t change or excuse what he did but he also came from a time where you don’t face up to your demons or your suffering. This is where I can relate to him. Except I’m in a time where it is increasingly encouraged to face your fears, to explore them and heal them. Because hurt people, hurt people. And my fears and traumas were hurting people, myself included. I now know better.
I’ve digressed a bit, but I wanted to write something about one of the most wonderful men I’ve had the fortune of being so close to for 29 beautiful years. A man with whom I share so many memories and a man who I hope knew he left his mark in this world. In me.
I didn’t intend on putting the more personal posts in my blog, but I realised I want it to be a true reflection of me, my thoughts and my life. About things that are important to me and not just this journey I’m in with my health at the moment. And not for the benefit of others, much as that is the aim of sharing my blog. But it’s still my journal after all, and so if or when I choose to look back at it I want to be able to see it all.