Today is a kind of mixed emotion day for my family. 12 years ago exactly, my Papa (grandfather, for people who think I mean my dad) died because of colon cancer. They discovered it too late, and there was nothing much the hospital could do.
My Papa was a great man. Born in Derbyshire England, in 1932, on November 20th. Died in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, in 2001, on February 13th.
He spoke many different languages, and was a very well educated man; he was a school teacher, actually. He married twice, and had five children, two with his first wife, Irene Ferguson (my Grandma) Martine (my Mummy) and Alan, and three with his second wife, Irene Mackie (my Nana), Andrew, Fiona, and Peter.
When he was alive, he had three grandchildren- Rebecca, Jason from my aunty Fiona, and me, from my Mummy (Martine). Shortly after his death, my cousin Amber was born (from my uncle Peter).
In 2012, Rebecca had a son named Kaleb, and he is loved by us all.
I think he'd be proud of us all. We have all overcome so much in our lives, because believe me when I tell you my family hasn't had it easy. But we're all pulling through, and we're all happy with our lives, because we have each other and good friends.
I miss my Papa, we all miss him. His jokes, his laugh, his garden, his love of poetry...all of it. He's still with us thiugh, I think. No, I know. He loves Amber and Kaleb just as much as if they were alive when he was.
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