I don’t typically remember my dreams, but I think that runs true for most people. However, there will always be one dream I remember vividly. I was dreaming about walking through the town I grew up in -Kendal. In the dream, there was a fire raging through the town but in the midst of it- my grandad Bob stood in a corner of a shop doorway peeling potatoes. Fire literally enveloped every inch of the town in the dream except for the one spot where he stood. When I woke up, it was so strange to me that he was doing something so specific during a scary time.

Over the years I have continued to think about that dream and what it meant- originally I thought it had to do with the fact that when my sisters and I were growing up, he cooked a lot for us, and something he always did whether he, my dad, nana or my mum was the one cooking- was peel the potatoes if we were having them. But as time has gone on, I’ve realized it wasn’t just about him peeling the potatoes, it was an indication of who he was as a person. Steadfast, reliable, and always willing to do the hard work no matter who or what it was for. 2023 was a year that started with him here and will end with him gone. A year that I always kind of hoped I wouldn’t see, but deep down I knew that it was inevitable- there would be a time in my life that he wouldn’t be here.

My grandad was and always will be my hero, just like the beautiful daughter he helped bring into this world, he had a personality that words will never fully encapture but I certainly want to try. He left us suddenly though not fully unexpected at the end of October. After he left, it felt like the universe had an empty hole where he should have been, his personality had always been such a huge part of my life that it didn’t make sense that it was just gone from my life. The reality is that 2023 was a really hard year for him and a lot of his personality was missing from my life before he even left the earth. Yet, when we did talk, he still made sure to tell me how he loved me and asked how I was doing. My grandad was a man of few words when it came to exclaiming his love, but as we got older, grief and life changed us drastically and he started to say that he loved us more. I will never be grateful for the loss of my mum, because she should be here, but I will be grateful for the way it made us realize how short life is and how important it is to tell others how we feel.

I am so lucky that my sisters and I were the only grandchildren, we were truly spoiled and there’s no shame in my game in admitting that. Yet, we weren’t necessarily spoiled with toys or materialistic items, but instead memories. A whole lifetime of memories, my grandad drove up to The Lake District where we lived, almost every weekend. Then he would drive us out on adventures with him and my nana, we explored the lake towns and had lunch and afternoon tea in countless cafes across the Lakes. Then when all was said and done, he’d drive us home and as we drove, we’d beg them to tell us stories about their lives growing up and adventures they’d been on before we were born. It was like our own special world, singing to the radio, laughing at times gone by, and soaking up the seconds with them.

Moving to America and leaving them behind was difficult beyond belief, and truly thank god for Facebook Messenger because I video-chatted with them (and still video-chat with Nana) on an almost daily basis. It almost made it seem like we were all together, and that things weren’t all that different even with an ocean between us. But, when my mum died, it did kind of seem like that ocean got bigger somehow. The distance between us felt ginormous and those Facetime chats felt all the more special and important to me.

For as long as I can remember my Grandad did so much for so many people, he was always the one to call when you needed a lift to or from an appointment or the airport. For us, it meant driving to the Lakes for the weekend, taking us to our extracurricular activities (horse riding and gymnastics), to school and forever the first one to arrive at school pick-up time, and more often than not found chatting to a teacher or another parent while waiting for us to finish for the day; and always with a smile on his face. Grandad Bob became a well-known figure within the community of Selside & Kendal, the towns we lived in and went to school in. Most of my childhood friends were familiar with him, and even with his stories. I once begged him to come talk to my classmates about what it was like growing up at the start of World War II and was so proud and ecstatic when he agreed- because it meant another opportunity to share the man I thought the world of, with everyone I could.

A life without my Grandad seems so daunting, but knowing that I have a magnitude of memories to take with me is such a blessing, and of course, the fact I still get to cherish my Nana and hear her stories about their lives is so incredibly special. There is one thing that I wanted to save for last because in so many ways I think it truly is symbolic of my relationship with him, and the way that I feel about the person he was. He and Nana came to stay with us last Christmas, at the time we didn’t know it would be the last time we would see and hug him; though I still think he had an inkling that it might be. This time with them felt extra special, they got to meet my future husband for the first time, I got to take paid time off from my job to spend time with them, and for the first time, I got to cook dinner for them. It truly felt cathartic and so incredibly special to have them in my house and enjoy quality time with them. I will look back fondly on that, now knowing it was my last visit with him. Whilst they were here, we wanted to make mashed potatoes (my favorite) to go with sausages and onion gravy- a Nana staple! Grandad was mind-blown that I didn’t have a “real” potato masher, I used a spoon and made it work, so he went out and bought me one to have. It’s a simple, red plastic one, but it means the world to me now. I open the drawer and am reminded of that dream, and of his steadfast, stoic, and kind heart that would have given the world to every one of us who asked.

That potato masher will stay with me through the remainder of my adult life, because every time I see it, I think of him. He was one of the biggest parts of my world, and it’s amazing how much smaller my world seems now that he isn’t here.

Here’s to 2024, a new year without my special Grandad, but a year of sharing memories of him, laughing with the people I care about, and marrying the love of my life. I wish my Grandad was here to see that, but I know that he will be in my heart forever and a day.

I love you Grandad- “The Loveliest Bob there ever was”. I’m making potatoes tonight, and I’ll be thinking of you as I peel them. Thank you for making our childhood one of dreams.