I was going to post a blog about my left-hand side's progress, but my grandad sadly passed away last Friday, so I decided to write one about him, as it's more important.
I mentioned him in last November's birthday blog, and thought I would quote it:
"In my head, despite it being my special day, the guest of honour was my inspirational grandad, my mother's father, who has been going through his own health problems recently after being diagnosed with cancer and suffering a stroke. He is now, like me, at home receiving help from family and friends."
He was an inspiration. I was incredibly honoured to have known my grandad, known as "Jim" as he was quite a character. I consider myself lucky to have his name, as my middle name is James.
I did not know him in his younger days, but, to me, he never seemed his age, which was 88 when he passed. He was the strongest bloke I've ever known, or will ever know, providing me with so much strength and courage; hearing stories about how well he was doing.
He showed me it was possible to fight anything, to continue down a road, which seems impossible, and do it with personality!
I have this image in my head of him in his younger days, from the War, like something from a Brad Pitt film, like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, or Inglorious Basterds; a dashing war hero, getting into fights and enjoying a pint.
He was a big Leicester City fan and always talked to me about them whenever I saw him, which sadly has not been much in the last year and a half. It was football, in particular Leicester City, who my grandad would mention to me, as I work in the job I do, occasionally with Leicester Tigers thrown in; I'm convinced just to keep me happy, as he knew I was more of a rugby fan.
When I heard the news it felt like a physical pain, as grief often does. I felt all the emotions you would expect but also an overwhelming sense of anger. I was angry I couldn't remember our last words, our last meeting, our last joke. I can't remember the last time we sat down and caught up. I know it happened, because I have been told, but those last meetings and words are not ones I posses in my memory anymore. This made me sad and angry.
But then I thought it is not about last words, last meeting or, last times, it is about all those years before. I am going to remember him telling me to get my haircut or have a shave as soon as I had even the slightest whisker on my chin! I am going to remember those feelings of pride when I thought of him in the war. I am going to remember the fact every week he read these blogs.