On the rocks 
knowing who to call 
Beach Patrol 
“Caution Unguarded Edge” 
where Butlins once stood
Took a wander. Walking is good for your soul, I’ve found. My Grandad was a great walker. Walked daily from his house in Coopers Lane, along passed Butlins and back through the town. He continued this daily walk in his 90’s until one day he said he felt tired. Decided not to get up that day. The family were worried, do you need anything, should we get a Dr? No, the dog licence is on the mantle shelf, close the door on your way out. Time elapsed and when they went back to the house to check in on him, he’d died. The gentle death of an old man, who’d had a good life and just gently and naturally had come to the end of it.
Grandad used to come round ours everyday for lunch. He’d do a tour of the relatives stopping for a cup of tea and a read of each of their different newspapers. He was big and a little bit scary for me, the four year old. He’d get his walking stick and hook it round my neck and say come here my little tulip. His big coat smelled, I don’t remember what of, just old maybe. I remember struggling to get off his lap and backing away, running to my Mum to hide in her apron. And then he didn’t come round anymore. Lots of people came to the house. I remember seeing my uncles. I remember them as big and loud but not big with laps like Grandad. Standing around, awkward.
Children didn’t go to funerals in those days so I suspect what I’m remembering is his wake. How sad. He had been a daily part of our lives and then suddenly gone. Children need a chance to say goodbye too.
Goodness what a contrast to where we are now. This morning as a family we buried a baby hedgehog we’d tried unsuccessfully to save after finding it in the road. Poor little thing. We said our goodbyes while the gulls screeched over head. It’s was almost like they were shocked to see this loss to our street. How sad, we all felt it.
Maybe it was that sadness that took me to my walk today, reconnecting to other sadnesses. Funny isn’t it how that happens. Like when you go to a funeral and find yourself crying for other people that have gone before.
I’m mindful of how we haven’t had a funeral yet. How that person was significant in our lives. Gone but not forgotten. A glass raised in recognition but wondering when or if we’ll get to say goodbye.
Because you never know how people will be affected or who. So many resources for children and adults too if you know where to look if you wanted to see (link) https://thegoodgriefproject.co.uk/
What about those not on line who just seek someone to talk to, trying to make sense of how they feel?
Gone but not forgotten