My Grandfather.

My grandfather and I, aged about 18 months.

There were so many wonderful things about the man who was my grandfather. His sense of humour (a postcard sent to my father: “The weather is here, wish you were wonderful!”), his height (6’5, and he would behave like an overexcited child if he ever came home having met someone taller), his adoration and dedication to the many dogs he had over the years, and most importantly to me, the fact that I got to call him grandpa. There is so much to the complexity of his character, that in the wake of his passing, I am terrified I shall forget parts of him. So, in aid of my own memory retention, below are some of the things that I never, ever want to risk forgetting about my grandpa.

1. That when my father told him that I was on the way, he exclaimed “but I’m far too young to be a grandpa!”
2. That he would always indulge in my desire to ‘ride the tractor’ (which was actually a sit-down lawn mower) when I went to his house, for many hours on end.
3. That he took me to see my first ever theatre productions, including Cinderella and The Emperor’s Nightingale.
4. The way he pulled me to him on my 6th birthday and whispered that my birthday present was that I would learn to ride horses for as long as I still possessed that desire. He paid for me to learn from that day on, until I was 13, and an expert.
5. The way he would stand with his hands clasped behind his back.
6. That he would always describe his youngest dog as a ‘pest’- and that was how I learnt that word.
7. The grandfather clock he had in his home, that would chime every hour, and he would open up the body to show me the swinging pendulum.
8. The walks he would take me on along the canal with his dogs, and the picnics we’d eat out of the back of his Volvo.
9. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled.
10. The way he would clatter his cutlery, stick his elbows on the table and smack his lips to make me laugh at the dinner table, and then act like a naughty child when his wife caught him out with a loud and disgusted shout of “JIM!”
11. That he was a champion high-jumper.
12. That he was promoted to Captain in the National Service at an unusually early age, and was an immensely talented Civil Engineer.
13. His Salford accent.
14. That he loved jigsaws.
15. That the only video he had in his house was Disney’s “The Fox and the Hound”, and that I would watch that every time I went to stay.
16. That he would take me to the fair when it came into town and let me ride everything I wanted.
17. That he would allow me to feed the dogs for him, leaving me feeling immensely proud and important.
18. That he tried, unsuccessfully unfortunately, over the years to spark an interest in bird watching for me, as he loved it so much.
19. The way he would always insist on calling me ‘Bun’, my childhood nickname, even into my early twenties.
20. The way he lent down to me on his last birthday, as we were all squashed under a gazebo having a picnic as it poured it down outside, and whispered so only I would hear, “What a daft way to spend my birthday, eh?” and winked.
21. The way his voice sounded the last time I ever spoke to him on the phone. Weak and croaky.
22. That he died on the 2nd October 2014 at the age of 84, with the dawn chorus just starting and the daylight just breaking.
23. That his coffin just seemed far too short for a man of his height. Until I reminded myself just how much he had withered in the months prior to his death.
24. That he was one of the funniest, gentlest and most caring souls anyone could have ever met. And that the church was packed to bursting to send him off, filled with people who all loved him just as much as I did.

I am so devastated to have lost the man who gave me the surname I bear, who helped to raise me, who was the only grandfather I ever knew. It is a small measure of comfort to know that he was adored by so many, and to know that he would have been so immensely happy to see his whole family and all his old friends gathered together to celebrate his life and his impact on ours. I will always miss the man named James “Jim” Harwood Trapp, my grandfather.

The “tractor”. About 4 years old.

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