Grandad Lorry

This morning, my grandad passed away.

He had been ill for a couple of weeks and this week it became apparent he was possibly suffering from something approaching bronchitis, practically unheard of from a man was never ill and declared to anyone who would listened that most illnesses were "all in the mind, my dear".

Once he went in to hospital, it was soon realised that he not only had pneumonia but also had suffered a heart attack. He briefly rallied, taking the opportunity to lecture Ann and Nan last night. From what we are told, it was a peaceful death: in the early hours, he asked for a glass of water and when the nurse later returned to check on him he was still holding the glass and breathing, but was non-responsive. Their followed a brief struggle to revive him but his heart just kept on slowing down and eventually just faded away.

The reaction to his death by the family has been largely predictable - some tears, a few jokes, and quiet support. We aren't ones for histronics - far too practical for that, but makes remembering the happier times with Grandad easier.

Like this Christmas, spent at Mum and Dad's, with the rest of the Bryants and Aunty Ann akl aimiably taking the mick out of his skill for playing Newmarket, and just after christmas his trip with Nan and Ann to see the Devon mob to watch the mumming. He then was back with us at New Years, when, the tone deaf music hating old grump chose to stay in the room with the young'uns playing sing star instead of playing cards with the "adults".

I have far too many good times with Grandad (and of course Nan) too detail here but I just want to record a couple here in case my memory deterioates any further. Going out on the Lorry with Grandad when I was around 8ish. I know we did various stops but the only one I remember we loaded box after box of new handbags for delivery and I was given a white satin one to keep (I still have it somewhere). Building forts and houses out of cigar boxes (and the smell of the cigars), climbing the apple tree and being warned of Nannies wrath of we knocked the mistletoe off,being taken to twist the thumb sticks and carefully hiding then until next time, coming to see our nativity plays etc, visiting me in hospital when I had my teeth out (despite his fear of the places - not as amazing as it sounds - Nan was in the ward below me with a bleeding ulcer at the time), coming to visit me during my stroke then insisting that it was absolutely no problem to give me a lift to physio/hospital appointments (I know he meant it too, but it didn't stop me from feeling slightly guilty)...

Luckily, he had spent quite some time with Nathan, who adored him (as all small childern did, recognising one of their own) and he never failed to make him smile by pulling faces, making funny noises or finding something to play with. It is a shame that Nathan will never get to roam the "Ups and Downs", play poo sticks, combat "the enemy" or get into various other troubles (They were new school shoes, grandad!) with his great grandad, not that his knees were up to much these days anyway.

In a way, perhaps it was for the best, if he had had his driving licence taken away due to his failing health, he would have been miserable. However, just last week he still drove his "widow woman" on her shopping trip so he was doing his beloved driving still to the last.

John and I discussed going to see him yesterday evening but decided against it as we didn't want to expose Nathan to the germs in the hospital and I had absolutely no doubt that a man I had always regarded as almost super-human string would, of course, be out soon. I wish I had decided differently.

As cousin Aden posted earlier, "It's a straight road Grandad,u cant miss it."