On Sunday morning my Grandfather died. His name was Harold and he was a kind and funny old man. This didn't come as a shock as he decided it was time to go and his wishes were respected which was good. He died in his sleep without pain, the best possible outcome really.
His death is complicated in a way for me because I am adopted and he was my birth grandfather. I no longer have a relationship with my birth mother as it was very complicated. ( complicated being an understatement of epic proportions)
I met Harold and his beautiful wife and my birth grandmother Nancy when I was 18 years old. Nancy was a very special woman in my life, the anniversary of her death is next Wednesday and I feel strongly that Harold did not want to live through this anniversary again. The unconditional love I felt particularly from Nancy can never be matched and I think about her a lot in August.
I think about how she always held my hand or stroked my arm if we were near each other, like I may disappear if she let go of me for a second. How she always told me that after I was put up for adoption, when I was born, that she and Harold said a prayer for "the baby" every night hoping that "one day she would come back" to see them and that when we did finally meet she cried and called me "the baby" for so long and how she couldn't believe "the baby" was so grown up. And how she wrote me funny letters when I was living overseas and I still have them and they are amongst my most precious things. And how she referred to coming to my uni graduation as the best day of her life, until I married Chef then that became the new best day of her life.
On Monday it was the 10 year anniversary of my Dad's death. (My adopted Dad, although I never referred to him as that ever as he is and always will be my only Dad, ditto for my Mum.) I cannot even put into words how much I miss him nor do I even know where to start in what an amazing Dad he was to us and how much I wish I could just spend one day with him and he could meet Busy. He was a wonderful man.
Today is the anniversary of my Poppy dying. My Mum's Dad. I have so many fond memories of him when I was growing up. He used to sneak Caramello koala bears to us under the table and sing silly songs and tickle us and play tricks on us and just be a great Poppy. I miss him too, it has been to long since I saw him.
So August is a time for quiet and peace. A time to remember those people special to me who are no longer here. I think this has been made harder this year because soon our new Baby will be born who doesn't know these people and that makes me sad. Nancy, my Dad and my Poppy all would have loved Busy so much and I wish she had of had the chance to have them in her life. This new baby misses out on all these people too. But we are lucky Busy has 3 excellent grandparents and this baby will have them too.
So I am going to spend the next few days reading letters from Nancy and ones from my Dad too and thinking about Harold and my Poppy and hope that this sadness will leave before the end of August.