It’s a unique feeling, when it finally dawns on you that someone who has been a part of your life for such a long time is no longer there. It’s a sickening realisation that stops you in your tracks. In your mind you can visualise the person, smiling, talking, living, but when the vision fades you realise that this is now your only connection to them. Through memories, photographs, anecdotes and, on a higher plane, through a kind of subconscious imprint of their being on your inner self.
This is what happened to me when I lost my Grandad. He was called Matthew but to me he was always just “Grandad”. He was the stereotypical perfect Grandad and could have come straight out of a childrens book. He was bald, smoked an old pipe and had that reassuring smell that emanates from people who have lived long enough to have seen it all and done it all. We played chess, cribbage and talked for hours about anything and everything. He passed away on the 24th of August 2000.
I’ve spent almost all of my adult life travelling from place to place. I spent 9 years in the armed forces, then I worked internationally as an engineer, more recently I’ve worked throughout the United Kingdom. This “on the road” lifestyle is very detrimental to a number of areas in your life, your friendships, your relationships and your waistline. After 16 years of travelling, I finally made the county of Fife in Scotland my home.
Life has a habit of keeping you guessing and over the years I’ve lost quite a few good friends. Occasionally, and inevitably, my thoughts turn to the friends I’ve lost. It would be wonderful to be able to have a quiet moment with them when this happens. That is why I developed Friends At Rest. It’s a place to go to in our busy lives to just spend a few precious quiet minutes remembering.
Unfortunately, in June this year (2009), I lost my Grandma. She knew I was working on the Friends At Rest website and she also knew that I was going to create a memorial to my Grandad. They are now together on my site and I visit them regularly. Having a distant resting place used to mean that I rarely visited my Grandad. Now, I see him all the time.
John Thornley
http://www.friendsatrest.com
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