I don't know if this is a side-effect of getting older, or if my thoughts and emotional state have changed, or whatever, but I've found myself missing my grandparents a lot recently, particularly those on my mother's side. This may sound a little harsh, but my family in general were always quite a bit closer with my maternal grandparents for various reasons — and this isn't to say I don't miss my grandparents on the Davison side, along with Bill, the lovely chap my Nan Davison married rather late in life — and thus I find it's them that my thoughts turn to with increasing frequency of late.
I feel a particular sense that I wish I'd gotten to know my Grandad a bit better. He was the first of my grandparents that we lost, but he was a beloved part of our family. He was always quite a character, and somewhat notorious to my parents for his famous "bodge jobs" on things that needed fixing or building. Since my wife, Andie, is rather handy (no jokes please) and good at improvising when things go sub-optimally, I find myself thinking that my Grandad would have got along well with her.
My Grandad was also always very supportive of things like my creativity and musical ability. Quite often when we made the trek from Cambridgeshire over to the West Midlands to visit the grandparents, both sets of whom were there, we'd take along a keyboard from home and I'd put on impromptu little "concerts" in their living room. Rather cheekily, I'd put up hand-made signs to make it look like we were in a real concert hall or theatre — I always used to find it particularly amusing to put signs up for the toilet — and I'm pretty sure on more than one occasion I put a modified tissue box on the door as a means of charging "admission". But my Nan and Grandad always humoured me, and they were always pretty generous with the pocket money, too.
My Nan was a nice person, too. Every time we went to visit, she'd make me jelly and ice cream and make sure she had Jammy Dodger biscuits in because she knew I liked them. I have odd little flashes of memory of my time spent with her, like attempting to draw Asterix in my sketch books while listening to the tape of '80s chart hits that felt strangely out of place in my grandparents' house. I remember playing Super NES on the ratty old portable television in the dining room. And I have regrets over occasionally being a moody adolescent on certain visits. I don't even remember why I was upset or angry; I just feel a bit ashamed when I look back on those moments, which occasionally, likewise, pop into my mind unbidden.
It's an odd thing, really, isn't it. As you grow older, you have a better sense of who you are, and who you feel you might get along with. As I've grown older, I feel like I would have enjoyed spending more time with my grandparents, and I'm pretty sure they would have liked Andie a lot, too. There are times when I almost feel like my Grandad is watching over me from wherever he is, even. And as he watches, he never judges; he's just there, a comforting presence.
Perhaps that's enough. Well, it kind of has to be, doesn't it? Because you can't turn back the clock. Sometimes it's just a bit of a shame that you feel like you understand the importance of certain people in your life long after they've departed it.
Perhaps I'll see my grandparents again someday. No-one really knows. But it's kind of a comforting thought to feel like they might be there waiting to see me again.
Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.
If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.
Discover more from I'm Not Doctor Who
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
