Sunday, 12 December 2010

Paper Chains

 Will you learn in years to come
The pulsing rhythm of our life's drum?
Or will that music quiet until
The rhythm fades, the pounding stills
And all remains are just a wisp
That crumble like the morning's mist?

My Grandad died on Thursday morning, at about 11:10am. I wish I'd known him better. I wish that, in all our conversations, all the times when I'd ask him questions, and we'd talked about nonsensical, whimsical things, I had learned more about what his life was like that drew him to be the man he was.

He wasn't a demonstrative man. I still remember the hard squeeze of his hand at the table when we said grace, the rough, whiskery kiss that he'd bestow on my cheek when I came in, the way he talked when he became passionate about something. When I was younger, I remember for once being patient enough to go around his beloved garden with him. I wish I'd dragged him out on every visit.

I know, though, that above all you worked harder than anyone I've ever known, except maybe your wife, my Grandma. You devoted yourself to all your projects - the lovingly crafted cupboards and kitchen you made for her, the hobbies you encouraged your children to pursue by making sure they were possible. 

I miss you.

All my love,



  1. awww thats relli sad *huggss* xx

  2. What a lovely poem, perfectly marks the moment and weighs the weight of the memories. Did you write it Rach?