Special Spontaneous Visitors

There’s lots I miss about my home town and living near my family but on the other hand there’s many more things I don’t miss. The one thing that always gives me a heavy heart whenever I think about it, is the ease of seeing my Grandad.

When I lived in Essex I was always just five or ten minutes away from him. Growing up there was barely a day that went by when I didn’t see my Nan and my Grandad. I was there frequently in the mornings before school so that my mum could work, and there after school until she picked me up.

I have extremely fond memories of holidays and days out. Buying new shoes, or arguing even over the fact I was adamant I didn’t want Clarks ones and wanted a more grown up on trend shoe from Revel. I’ve not really known a life like my Hubby’s where he sees his Grandparents every few months for a few days. That’s completely alien to me.

However, making a big move to a different county, one that happens to need a bridge crossing to get to, has meant that I naturally can’t just pop by to see my Grandad. At first although it felt very strange, I was so involved with setting up our new home and dealing with the grief of losing my Nan in the same week we moved. That actually I didn’t really have time to miss seeing my Grandad every day.

Gradually as the weeks went by and they turned into months we got into a habit of seeing my Grandad once a week or even once a fortnight. It wasn’t enough but it was the inevitable of our move. I don’t regret our move at all by the way as we have now created such a lovely little family home and are surrounded my familiar faces, friends and brilliant opportunities.

But I do miss my Grandad. More than words will ever be able to describe. He comes over at least once every few months and we do try to make the effort to go back to Essex too. He definitely sees the girls every month when they stay with my Mum. Seeing him makes me feel sad though. In a good way I suppose, but just emotional.

I am always grateful for the memory I have of my Nan the morning of the day she died. As much as I love my Nan dearly, I was always a Grandad’s girl. The thought and knowing that it’s nearly certain I won’t have the same sort of memories is heart breaking and I suppose a little morbid too. Poor Grandad if he’s reading this.

On Sunday, I text my Grandad about something to which he replied that he was in Brighton. I quickly let him know that he must pop by ours on his way home from the horse racing and he said he’d do his best. I was so incredibly ecstatic when he let me know that he would be popping by. It sort of felt like the old days in a strange but unfamiliar way.

He was actually with my Nan’s sister and her husband (who is my God-Father) and it was the first time they’d seen the house. It felt so warm and comforting to have the three of them over for a cup of tea and to show them our holiday photos. My Great-Aunt reminds me so much of my Nan so I always enjoy the brief moments I get to see her.

I’ve told them all they are definitely welcome to come by again because they’ve been doing a lot of horse racing trips lately. They’ve told me they will so I’m going to hold them to that. I’m now looking forward to taking my Grandad for lunch next week and being back in my hometown. The place that no longer feels like home but holds many nostalgic memories.