April drizzle softens the winds fists
and is almost spent by the time I reach Granddads little abode.
His hugeness fills the cottage door.
An eighty-year-old-body of illness and courage.
Coming into his view
I hear him laughing
his laughter heartwarming as ever.
shovelled on with best butter and jam
soon to be partnered by hot steaming tea
in man-sized mugs sugary with the consistency of syrup
drunk in between precious family and friend updates.
Later he dodders a short distance back with me
my doll-like hand in his giant palm, he says
well, what do you know Jemsy? ( his pet name for me )
'my first time out in a long time!'
( I think the excitement overcame his incapability )
From a distance, I turn around and see him
massively silhouetted waving to me in the doorway
against the cheery log fires glow
and I am filled with love admiration and sorrow
knowing that one day
I will have been to visit him for the very last time
while knowing and yet not knowing why?