Sorry for a lack of updates lately. I've been a little bit preoccupied. For those who have not heard, my grandfather George sadly lost his fight with cancer a fortnight ago at the age of 73. The two weeks since have at times dragged and at other moments swept past, and yet here I am facing that great predetermined fate of every one: that which we fear the most, our finale companion of Death.
I believe John Cena (yes, let me quote the WWE Champion for a second) put it best when, asked about Eddie Guerrero's death, he said "We are all thankful that he's in a better place now, where he is no longer in pain, but there is not one single person here who is not selfless enough not to wish he was still with us." And that's exactly how I feel about Granda George. His suffering is over, of that we can be glad. But, at the same time, there is always the selfish part of you - that wants it not to be over, that wants a trip to Aurs Road to that little house to see the old bastard one more time.
One soul defining thing that can be taken from this whole affair is that, in death, nothing ends. As long as memories live on, so does the person. And believe me, there is enough memories of George that exist to fill a book series. And we will meet again. It's one of the few things that keeps society together, the idea that we will meet our loved ones again. We will, dont worry. I can look to my Mandy, to the GSFWCers, to Shimmy and Iain, to Jo and Louise and Thistle and Joe and Simon and iO and hell, everyone who exists in my life now that simply didn't before.
When I was younger, lonely before the birth of my younger sister (dont tell her that though, she has a reputation to keep!), I use to spend a lot of time with my grandparents. Gran and Granda Bob, and George and his sister Marion (George's wife Ellen sadly died before I was born). To the four of them I still have strong emotional bounds. When Bob passed, I was so gutted I couldn't speak to anyone for ages. Even now, I have trouble speaking about it to many people without crying over it. My grandfathers were essentially my best friends in a time of my life when I was never the most popular or accepted person amongst my peers. And they were so alive, they seemed invincible to me.
They seemed invincible to me. And now they're but shadows.
I seem to be doing better this time around. I think its because this time we were prepared. Bob died suddenly of a heart attack. Despite his bad health, I dont think many of us were really expecting it so suddenly. One minute, joking with the nurses, next dying, the third, gone. For a man who we labelled "Lazarus", this sudden capitulation sort of rocked every viewpoint I had in the world. Bob was gone...snuffed out. It seemed impossible. It still does. Help my bob, so to speak.
With George on the other hand, we knew it was coming. Cancer gives that forewarning, especially when it was as advanced a stage as this was. I could get angry at people and play the blame game - if only the doctors had spotted it earlier.. but that would be pointless. In truth we know that my grandfather died because he had an overfondness for the cigarettes and alcohol. 60 years of abuse will do that to you. But even then, with the dreaded C, you still think: "It's not going to happen. He's going to beat it." It never even occurs to you that your loved ones can be capable of dying until they do it, and even then it never really sinks in.
Memories
On his love of alcohol: "I was abstinate for 14 whole years...then I left school."
On crossing Glasgow road without looking at the traffic: "Don't worry, I have fantastic reflexes"
(me) "But isn't the cars that need the reflexes?" (GG) "Ah, they have breaks!"
On philosophy
"Confuscious says..."
"Darwin has been discredited"
"Don;t you think that view was a bit medieval?" (often in reference to his old "pal", Dawkins)
"As Elliot George once said many times, "Rumours of my death were gradually exhaggerated."
On films
"That Carrie is a rare film, it is!"
Qoute of the century, there.
On hard work
"I painted the QE2 for two days, then I got tired and they realised i'd need help."
"The morale is, dont go biking in Singapoure in case you end up with a sore head and soup from a strange family."
"See those worms? They're poisonous snakes! Killed tonnes of men, they did."
On pleasure
"I drove my girdle n' cleck to Largs, then it broke and I had to walk back."
On stating the obvious
"Do you think Seumas will mind this then?" (refering to a large quantity of alcohol he had just passed on to our flat)
And saving the best for last.
"So are you still supporting the Jags then?" *bursts into a big smile and laughs himself hoarse.
Cheers, Granda George. Let us gracefully forget your minor flaws as we wish our own to be forgotten in death, and let us remember the many amusing and definetly happy memories. Until we meet again!
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
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1 comment:
Thanks for your reflections, George. Grandafthers can be a unique and enduring part of a man's life - they have been for me.
You are a poet - I, more a philosopher, and I am trying to understand where this mysterious relationship (formed by chance), leads. That is, the relationship between grandfather and grandson. Thanks for giving me much to think about.
Have a JD on me!
Michael
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