Brush with death

Via Wooster Collective:

Memories

I’ve spent this morning going through photos for pictures of my grandfather, Harry Trelogan, who passed away on Thursday afternoon. It’s made me realise a couple of things.

First, that my picture taking habits have changed quite a lot over the past ten years – I used to take hundreds of photos, put them on facebook, store them in big batches and look at them occasionally. Not any more. These days it’s all about snapping a quick shot on the mobile and working out the best way to share it with people. Once it’s sent or uploaded or whatever, I just don’t think about it again. Photos aren’t memories any more, but more a method to crack a joke.

I’m not sure how I feel about this really, but now that I am actively seeking photos for memories, I can’t help but feel I might have it around the wrong way.

The second is that who my grandfather was to me has changed a lot over the years. My earliest memories of him (and many after) were always of him as half of pair – Gran and Gramps. Those memories revolved around visits to their house, being spoilt rotten, crying together at the sad scenes in Dumbo, Terry’s Chocolate Oranges and being showered with love. They were hugs and biscuits and comfort.

Later, he was a role model to me in humour, hospitality and sharp dress sense. To this day, I am yet to see another man wear a neck scarf with such aplomb or meet anyone quicker to offer you a drink when you walked in his door.

More recent memories are centred on the decline of this health, where his personable nature was increasingly clouded with confusion. Even during these days Harry maintained a strong work ethic – mum and dad’s garden has never seen such sustained attention as when Harry was still able to potter.

Throughout all these different understandings and perceptions of him there were common threads of sometimes surprising sensitivity, unconditional love and wit.

The last thing that I realised was that despite not having seen him in almost a year (and even then it was challenging to see the man I once knew), I still miss him more now that he is gone.