He's gone...

Well I guess this is finally it. He's gone. After a hectic summer of running around minding kids and grandparents, sorting out spats between the in-laws and making sure I don't go crazy with depression in the process;he's gone. The funeral was today. I've told so many people about what happened that I don't think saying anything much else would do it justice, but I'll try.
I find it oddly fitting that Zeke is leaving with Embela in CtrlAltDel while this is going on in my life. Like, in some cosmic way the whole world is subconsciously paying tribute to one of the greatest and kindest men I have ever known as he passes from this world to the next.
The most upsetting part, I found, was walking through the village behind the coffin on our way to the remove yesterday-all the family and close friends-and seeing that Brady's had closed and the owners were outside paying tribute to a great friend of theirs.
I wrote a poem. And read it when we were at the cremitorium. The front four rows, I know for sure, were filled with tears and tissues. Sorry for that!

The Man With the Smile

The man in the photographs

Over the tv

Never looked much like the granddad I knew.

My granddad was the man in the garden

Out back tending flowers

Of various hues.

He was the man in the chair

The big green chair

Sitting there reading the news.

He was the bringer of sweets

Rarely taken from their spot

Hidden from everyone's view.

He was the singer of songs

Of Dublin long gone

A Sean nos singer belting out his tune.

After a while he became the man in the bed

We watched him fade

But knew

That he would forever be

The man with the smile.

I did everything I was asked to over the last few weeks and especially the last few days. I wore what I was asked to, I made cup after cup of tea. Washed up, cleaned, hoovered, offered food, read at the funeral. I'm not complaining. It's family. It's what you do when it's needed.

But the amount of gossiping and bitching going on! It's crazy. There was a man dying in the front room upstairs all during the summer and his family spent their time getting at each other with snide remarks and comments. He was someone we all loved and they couldn't put aside their differences just to tend to him and my poor Granny who's left and lost now. They bickered and fought and complained when he didn't die at a convienent time for them. When minding him lost its novelty. When they wanted to return to their lives.

I'm not a saint. I can be as much of a bitch as any of them but I kept my mouth shut as much as I could while I was around family no matter what was being said to me or who it was. And I didn't go around crying, looking for attention. I might be a 'young wan', but sometimes I think I've more sense than the lot of them.

I'm sorry granddad, I didn't mean to moan about the family. It's just... not fair at all. A man like you, who was so good and kind and honest is gone. you were always the one with the quiet word, the gentle smile, the secret treat just because. You were the one who was interested in my accomplishments (when you could hear me telling you about them of course!) whether they were anything to do with sports or not. You were the type of person I wish that everyone could be.

You might have been older and had a bit more of an 'old school' mentallity, but you were great. Everyone who has ever met you knows what type of person you were and feels blessed to have met you.

You know I was never religious. You know I didn't fully believe as you did, but you, my good Sir, were a miricle. We were blessed to have you and I hope you're sharing a cuppa with the big man up there waiting on the rest of us to join you.

I love you Granddad. I'm heartbroken you're gone-we all are. But thank you so much for being here in the first place.