Grandad’s Died

Grandad Died

I remember him though I was only three;

he used to sit me on his knee.

Arms full of aged, deep veins raised on his skin,

he had high blood pressure, so mustn’t make a din.

He had grey hair at the sides and back,

top bald, oh, with glasses.

My mam loved her dad so much.

Then one day he said,

“Grandad’s going away soon, my little love.”

I said, “Are you going on holiday, Grandad?”

Tears filled his eyes; he said, “Sort of, yes.”

There was an old pendulum clock on the wall;

I used to watch it then fall asleep at night’s call.

Then one day, my mam cried so much—

Grandad had gone.

I missed Grandad; his name was Joe Brown,

well loved by all who lived near and around.

I grew, watching my mam crying for her dad,

over the years, not understanding her pain.

Before long, it was my turn,

when my dad, my best friend, died—

my life to this day has never been the same.

They say you have to know pain in this life at some stage;

my pain is like a knife.

I want to scream, “Grandad! Mam! Dad! Come back!”

But I know they all went to heaven on holiday.

Note I am sorry about the photo condition, it’s very old and all I have of grandad Brown ❤️