Blimey I miss you.
There are so many ways that I could start this letter, but none of them would do you justice.
No matter how many stories I tell people about you- your brilliant wit, your insane intelligence- the habit you had of having a rhyme or a tune for everything- there’s nothing that can quite pin you down.
Because, even though it’s been years- and even though you’re gone, I still expect you to come and pick me up or just walk into a room. You’d be humming- you always hum.
You’d probably have malteasers in your briefcase- or polos in your pocket- and we’d play that game to see who can make theirs last the longest.
You win of course.
You’re the person I get my fiercely competitive side off.
You’re also the person who’s given me determination, stubbornness and the need to always be right.
I admire and love those qualities in myself so much- because it was you who gave them to me.
I want to say sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to read anything aloud at your funeral. My tears and my sobbing were too loud, and I couldn’t get the words out. Anna did it though- could always rely on her over me to be the tough one eh?
I don’t really know why I’m writing.
I saw some photos of us tonight and I had words that I wanted to get out. Things I wanted to say- that I wish you could hear.
I’m so heartbroken that you won’t see my walk down the aisle next year. It breaks my heart to think that you won’t ever know what I’m doing for work or going to name my children.
You’d have loved luke. He’s got that curiosity and silly sense of humour about him. You’d have greeted him just like a gent and then i would probably have found you two laughing at something ridiculous later.
I love you grandpa. You were one of the best things about my childhood and one of my best memories.