Who am I?

Brother, son, uncle and grandson. These are four of the six christmas cards I have so far. I found something quite poignant in the different labels individuals have for me. I'm thankful I still have someone to send a son and grandson one, but perhaps I'm most thankful for having is the uncle one.

There are two candles lit here, one is for my Granddad Hutchinson who died in 1992. He was the relative who really gave me Lincoln City and even though I only knew him as a child I miss him, and I wish I'd known him as a man. The other is for my Granddad Muxlow who passed away in 2008. He is the relative I get my characteristics from, my stubborness, the fact I'm always right and my massive sulks. However from him I also get direction and a passion to succeed. I think Christmas is about remembering those not there rather than spending a fortune on cheap tat for the ones that are.

The festive period is twisting my melon at the moment. Every day of the year I try and let people know how I feel about them, how I appreciate them etc. However the rest of the UK seems to think this is a practice best saved for this period and personally I think this is almost narrow minded. Maybe I'm just bitter and lonely. Maybe I'm right. For now lets say I'm right.

I've been spoilt this week, as baby Isaac came over Sunday and today I popped in to see him. People who regularly check my journal will be aware I've been at Keiths funeral today. It was a sad affair, the crem was packed, standing room only. Everyone wore something red (he was a Man Utd fan) and his kids held up really well. It's been a turbulent ride for us as a 'step' family and my brother and his middle child Shaun still don't speak. I hugged them both and told them to be strong.

I couldn't face the second one, I doubt Horse would recognise me if he were looking down anyway. I hope both Horse and Keith are in a better place now, although I confess there are few worse places than Boston anyway.

I kept thinking during the service about the vicar talking as if she knew him. Now this vicar was excellent, a really strong and personal service which was light on religious rhetoric and high on Keith as an individual. However I really think that if I should ever go suddenly I'd want people there to say something about me instead, the people who make up the tapestry of my life. I don't wanna go down this route for todays little blip, but I will say one thing: when they burn or bury me I want Guns & Roses 'Don't Cry' to be played. I know it isn't entirely about being dead, but people would hear the Don't Cry and know it was from me.

I promise to be less morbid tomorrow, but today is now gone and that is a good thing. Thank you God for all my nearest and dearest, and if I can have just one thing for Christmas I'd like an Angel. There's one missing in my life you see.