10th November

…2010.

It had been about 16 months since my Papa passed, Gran was in an old folk home not far from us and we knew her health was going downhill. She passed about 3.30pm, then 3 hours we heard that my step gran’s husband had passed as well. Double whammy, eh?

The next week or so was about funerals and arrangements, sorting out personal effects. There were two shows I was meant to go to, including a house show for I Call Fives (and show) and a Less Than Jake tour show. I wasn’t in the mood to go, and we had too much on.
If I’m honest, I might say I was annoyed about not going. I could have done with the distraction, but being up in Dundee, and shuttling between Paisley and here, and other places, it was a busy week or so.

My gran wasn’t eccentric, but she was my first personal experience with Alzheimers / Dementia that I was aware of. Papa was as sharp as a tact until the end but for the last good few years, Gran would exhibit classic symptoms. My only regret is not speaking to them more about their early life, what they’d done in more detail, their war experience.

You couldn’t go to their house without getting offered a cuppa and biscuit, or pancakes.

This tweet wasn’t long before Papa took severely ill and passed on 1st July:

Searching back and reading that tweet, I immediately remember exactly doing that. I had the first Android phone on Vodafone in the UK, it was slow as treacle using Streetview but they thought it was fascinating seeing these places on my phone as if we were driving about.

Papa went to community classes to learn basic computer skills but after a while, he didn’t bother. I didn’t need to do anything online, he used to write me letters using a typewriter when I started University in 2002. Gran would sometimes send a handwritten card or note with it. They were people of their generation.

I wanted to write this down purely as a note. I don’t have a point for this other than remembrance which at this time of year is topical. My maternal grandparents were such a big part of my formative years that it still stings that they’re not here to talk to.

This post was backdated two days.