Remembering George

I had such a strong sense of him this morning as I planted the strawberries.

GB : 4th Degree Burns Oct 2020

George was my step-grandad. He married Nan when Mum was 10 years old so I grew up with him. If you read the post above, you’ll understand just WHY I admired him so much.

Gentle Giant? Oh, yes. He was over 6ft tall and well-built but the gentlest, most patient, kindest man that I’ve ever had the privilege to know.

Nan used to bitch the heck out of him but he’d just let it all flow by. I can honestly say that I NEVER remember him raising his voice.

He was a life-long fisherman (that’s how him and Nan met) and gardener. Both activities that teach us patience and quietude.

Never once did he not answer my incessant childish questions about EVERYTHING.

I was that awful kid that would always say…”Yes, but WHY?”

Why clean your tools every day?

Why wait for the next new moon before you plant that?

Why does the first swallow make a summer?

Why does the greenhouse smell poohey?

Why did you train all the pear trees to grow horizontally?

Why do you always have the nurse come in every day?

Why are there big gaping holes in your legs?

You get it :o)

I was 20 when he died and living in Germany.

But he has never left me!

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