My Grandfather, or Grandad as he’s affectionately known amongst my family, is preparing to celebrate his 90th lap around the sun next weekend. He has always been this constant, strong, supportive, and gentlemanly figure in my life and it is difficult now to watch age and health take their toll. At 90 years of age, with significant health issues, I’m sitting with the eventuality of losing him. Anticipatory grief is a real thing, that has a real impact.

I braved the “wilderness” of the shopping centre yesterday, in search of a birthday present fitting for a 90 year old and came up empty. I wanted to buy him something practical – some jumpers, because he complains that he has none and the nursing home takes a couple of days to do his washing and return it to him. What should have been a gift in itself – the opportunity to buy a gift for my Grandad – turned into my inner child stamping their foot and throwing a tantrum. I literally walked out of the shopping centre muttering to myself, “well, I just won’t buy him anything then.” This is complex anticipatory grief raising it’s head – as I was shopping I had the question in the back of my head – “what do I buy a 90 year old, one who is moving towards the next stage of his journey? What does he need? What can he use? He can’t take it with him!” And it all became too much for little me, who spent a good portion of her childhood with a Grandad who gave her, who taught her so much.

I was talking through this last night with someone in my support network, and they reminded me that anticipatory grief was complex, and that it helps to step into a space of gratitude – it helps to remember that you would not be who you are today without the influence of the person you’re already grieving.

So, I want to take the time to acknowledge the amazing life my Grandfather has lived so far, and the legacy he’s delicately woven into my very being. This man taught me what a kind, gentle, empathetic and wise man looks like. As the president of the bowls club, he taught me about the importance of community and of the bright and shining lives of the community members around me. He gave me my love for reading, and for Tetris competitions, trying to outplay each other’s score. He taught me how to do cryptic crosswords, and how to eat the chocolate from around the outside of a clinker and a crunchie first before eating the middle. He taught me to love wibbly wobbly jelly, with custard, and introduced me to tomato with sugar on top, on toast for breakfast.

My life is made up of memories with my Grandfather – like the time he took us to the shopping centre and at the top of the escalator, he said to me and my brother, “walk this way,” and when he turned to see if we were following him, he was confronted by two young children knees locked together, back bent, bums sticking out in a duck waddle, walking like a half shut pocket knife in unison and unapologetically mimicking the way he walked, in front of everyone. Or the story he told of the day he accidentally backed into the same car twice in the parking lot and drove off, not even realising that he’d done it. He was older then and at only 5 foot nothing, he had a hard time seeing out of his car. I remember the time he came into my class and told stories from the past – like drinking milk at school, from glass milk bottles that had been sitting in the sun. I have memories of listening to him play the piano accordian and the mouth organ, of teaching me how to play songs on the keyboard and me wanting to be just like him when it came to musical talent – unfortunately, musical talent still eludes me.

He taught me what a life well lived looks like. It has family, community, hard work, big laughs, values, and kindness for others, doing the things that you love, giving back to community, travelling with the people you love, doing what you believe is best for you, and making your own way in life.

It begs the question – what does a life well lived look like for me? When I get to his age – if that’s what the universe has in store for me – will people say that I too have lived a good life. What kind of a legacy do I want to leave? What impact will I have on the people in my life? What impact will I have on the people that have yet to come into my life?

Hopefully, it’s one that I can be proud of.