Pops

As some of you may know or have heard, my grandfather passed away last thursday. It's been hard for me to even try to write something about him as I feel anything I write wouldn't do him justice. I tried to write a eulogy for his funeral on tuesday but I felt it was too brief. The man was nothing less than a hero to me. Everything I do in life, I always consider what my grandad would think of me. If I'm doing stupid or immoral things, I always try to get on the right track. He did everything for me. The least I could do is make him proud. He was an altruist, a gentleman and a mentor. All his life, he put others first. He'd rush to hold the door for somebody, even when he was getting slow on his feet. He always used good manners and called the nurses dear at the hospital. He was a big lover of nature and animals. When we were kids, my sister and I spent most of our time with him, going for country walks, bike rides and mushroom picking. He rarely chastised us. We called him by his first name, Vince, and he never got mad if we swore or anything. The thing I miss about him most is his sense of humour. He was the funniest man I ever met. Whether intentional or not, he never failed to amuse. He had weird idiosyncrasies and his own crazy words that only made sense to him. He was pretty eccentric, always counting things, saying and doing strange things. He was a big horder too. He would find stuff while out walking the dog and bring it back to the house. Bikes, canoes(!), single shoes, glasses. My grandma would go nuts. The hardest thing for me will be the funeral. Not because of the sorrow I will feel personally. But to see people crying and shit. I'm sure I will be upset too. But I'll always remember him as a funny man. He used to say "Don't worry about me". When I'd leave after going to see him, I'd say "will you be alright on your own?" and he'd go "yes! I've been to Egypt on my own!". He'd hate for people to be moping around. That's why I've been reflecting on my favourite memories of him, not sitting around crying. Don't get me wrong, I miss the guy and I've shed tears. But that's not how I deal with things. He'll always be with me in every step. I'm getting his name tattooed on my chest today. My number one relative. My Hero. Vincent Wilfred Thompson. RIP. You'll live forever in all who met you.