Some of you may know that on 16th January 2012 my very dear Grandad Mick passed away. This was a shock to all of us, and it is only now that I can bring myself, still with a lump in my throat, to really take in that he's gone. I've never met a man so full of life and adventure; he constantly travelled the globe with my grandma and the Royal Navy, but was always, some how, at home too. Grandad was famous in our family for his garden, often escaping to the potting shed at the top of his garden, and so this poem, read at his funeral from all his grandchildren, seems so appropriate.
Our Grandad kept a garden. A garden of the heart.
He planted all the good things that gave our lives their start
He turned us to the sunshine and encouraged us to dream:
Fostering and nuturing the seeds of self-esteem.
And when the winds and rain came he protected us enough;
But not to much because he knew we would stand up strong and tough.
His contant good example, he always taught us right from wrong:
markers for our pathway that will last a lifetime long
We are our Grandad's garden, we are his legacy.
Thank you Grandad. We love you.