Grandad
Mills. This is who he was. A man who appreciated life and everybody in it right
until the very end and he taught me to appreciate this too. He would constantly
say what a wonderful life he has had and what a credit his friends and family
are to him and his memories (of which I can pretty much recite off by heart)! His
memory was something else. The stories he told from sixty years ago, although
repeated most times we saw him, were never wrongly recited. Every detail, from
the exact place to what he was wearing that day, was included. It’s who he was.
He had so much energy and was most definitely the fittest 89-year-old I knew. I
remember being shocked once when I was playing football in the garden and
Grandad came running up dribbling the ball then scored. He must have been in
his late 70s at this point. Amazing, but it’s who he was. He was a man of
extreme intelligence and independence and sometimes as stubborn as a Mule.
“Grandad you’re a bit too old to be cutting your own lawn” So, what does he do?
Mow the lawn, empty the flower beds, refill the flower beds, cook, wash, iron, go
to Sainsbury’s, drive down a pedestrian lane - all in a day’s work. Then he
wonders why he slept the following day and felt totally shattered. “Grandad
you’re almost 90, just sit and watch the bloody football”. But it’s who he was.
One striking characteristic was his smart appearance, always. Everybody
commented on it and still do. He used to say that no matter how Joyce felt, she
always put on her lipstick. Well, Grandad, I never saw him without a tie – I’ve
seen his collection, he had loads! He’d dress as if he was going to a wedding
just to grab a daily mail from the shop! In fact, even in hospital he was still
so desperate to look smart, clean and shaven for when the doctors did their
rounds. That’s the way he was. Christmases won’t be the same without his games
(which he spent most of the year preparing) and his funny moments when he’d
break into song or tell us how he laughed so hard once that he blacked out.
That is who he was. A generous man too, always bearing small gifts throughout
the year. My weekly present was a punnet of grapes and a ‘YOU’ magazine (which
I never had the heart to tell him that I didn’t actually read.) But it’s who he
was.
My most
treasured memory is one of my last where I got Grandad’s ‘My Yesterday’s’ bound
and gave it to him. I’m sure you’ve all heard about his ‘My Yesterday’s’. His
face was something I will never forget. Full of happiness and gratefulness and
pride. I want to end with the final paragraph of this book because it’s
beautiful and it’s his words and they were so special. It’s who he was. So here
it is, written by my amazing Grandad:
‘Now I feel
that I must come to the end of “My Yesterdays” and I have no intention of
continuing with “My Today’s”. The end came and was inevitable, with sorrow,
great sorrow, but with the knowledge that I did my best and believing that all
the good things you do in the World for other people are rewarded. Perhaps you
don’t recognise the rewards because they do not come in material benefits. It
might be a good feeling or the experience of just having a day when everything
is going your way. In my ageing years I have no regrets, my conscience is clear
and my Grandchildren are my rewards. To them I say, enjoy your lives and be
honourable to yourselves. Enjoy the talents that you have inherited. I can
recognise your inheritance left to you all, every day. When each Christmas
comes around I write to my living friends a summary of your achievements and
progress, and reflect that when I get a hug from one of you I feel like a
millionaire. So be it, saying to you all, enjoy your lives, work hard and be
honest to yourself, and “May a mouse never leave your cupboard with a tear in
his eye.”
Love Chas x’
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