It's a funny thing, losing a loved one. One minute they're there, and the next they aren't. You're left stranded, waiting for them to walk back through the door when rationally you know that won't happen. You turn to tell them something, only to find that they aren't in the room with you. At least not physically. It's funny. But not in a good way.
They say people deal with grief differently, but you don't realise just how true that is until it happens to you. Some cry, unable to accept what's happened. Others are stoic, slowly processing things. Some need to talk. Others need to type.
On Saturday 18th April 2015, we received a phone call no one wants to hear - let alone make. Grandad had passed away.
A father, husband, brother, friend. Taken away so quickly it's hard to believe it's real. But it is, and things must go on. He'd want that.
It's hard for me to put into words. Please be patient with posts if they aren't on schedule. Please accept if there is influx. Everyone copes differently.
19/8/1939 - 18/4/2015