My grandad was Norman Griffiths.
I can't tell you how much I loved my maternal grandad. Even in my early twenties, I used to say that I couldn't wait to become a grandad myself one day.
I lost Grandad in 1994 when I was 27. He was only 72.
Thankfully, one of my daughters gave me my first grandchild, Freddie, in 2025, so I finally got my chance.
The reason I'm writing this is because I've just had a bit of a realisation.
My dad left when I was 11. Looking back, I think Grandad quietly became my father figure after that. I don't think I'd ever consciously thought about it before, but it explains a lot about why I adored him so much.
When I was growing up, he could be a pain and brilliant in equal measure.
There were the ruddy chin pinches and the times he'd trap me between his legs so I couldn't escape. As a child, that was endlessly annoying. Looking back now, I'd probably give anything to experience it one more time.
We weren't a wealthy family, but my grandparents always seemed to find a way. They bought some of our best Christmas presents, and I'm fairly sure they helped pay for our annual holidays to Great Yarmouth.
More importantly, Grandad taught me things that had nothing to do with money. He helped shape the person I became. The older I get, the more I realise how much of my outlook, values, and approach to life came from him.
It's funny how some things take decades to understand.
I always knew I loved my grandad.
What I've only just realised is that, after my dad left, he became the man I looked up to most.
Love you, Grandad.
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