“Pinhole Glasses”

I remember your chair in the corner
And the times that I sat on your knee.
I remember you were such a hoarder
And that you always spilled your cup of tea.
I remember that I never knew your age
Though that luxury, few can claim,
For instead of protecting the page,
You set your birth certificate aflame!
I remember it was Elvis you hailed
“He’s still alive, you know” you’d scoff.
I remember how you picked at your nails
Even though she used to tell you off.
I remember your wicked sense of humour
Like the bloody, rusted nail through your thumb.
The innocence you would feign to your accuser
Then, “hey Garrick, can you fetch your mum?”
I remember you wore pinhole glasses
Because you thought they improved eyesight,
And that you tried to preach them to the masses
Although any concieved difference would be slight.
I remember how much you always loved me –
In fact, how much I know you love us all.
And I know for a fact, up there you see
Every spontaneous trip and fall.


A few weeks ago, my family experienced the first major, close death it has had in my lifetime. I’m aware this poem includes a lot of inside jokes and references, but it was written raw and it felt wrong to edit it. It’s being posted out of respect and closure, I suppose.

I love you Granddad, rest in peace ❤

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