One Year On

Today last year I woke up to go to work to find my sister at my bedroom door. My Grandad had passed away in the night, mercifully with my Mum, Uncle and Aunt at his side. His death left a gaping hole in the family, especially after my Nana had passed a few summers before. Mum was in bits, as we all were.

Grandad Derek was a wonderful man. Incredibly kind and patient, but firm with us all, his army background plain to see in his ordered and measured manner and fiercely proud of his family and their achievements. He was also incredibly strong, fighting a Cancer which doctors said should have taken him when I was only 1 until it eventually beat him, 20 years later just weeks before my 22nd birthday.

Aside from family his love was for trains and transport of all kinds. My overriding memory of him will always be his model train set, sat in my uncles old bedroom. We would be allowed to play with it, but only under the strictest supervision. It was his baby, his work of art and we loved it. The trains only went one way but we'd watch for hours as he ran different trains into what was a direct replica of one of the stations around Manchester. He hand painted the carriages, the backgrounds, the rails and the people, introducing new areas for each new arrival in the family; Sansome trucks for him and my uncle, Gaskell's for my family, Bilsborough trains for my cousins.

My other fond memory was his love for jazz and repaying him the favour from countless trips out in my childhood when I picked him up from home, aged 17 in my first set of wheels, to take us to see the Glenn Miller band in concert at The Bridgewater Hall. I've still got the ticket stub and programme in my room, preserved in a box where I keep special items.

Today I remember him with fondness, and although we miss him we know he is at peace, free from the pain of his illness and alongside my Nana forever.


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This is my favourite picture of my Grandad and I which resides in a photobook I received from my sister for my 21st.