Dear Grandad

Do I call you Grandad? Or Grandpa. Gramps?
We never got to meet so we never got to clear that up.
To be honest I’m not sure I like any of them.
You do have a pretty distinctive first name though.
Valentine Hennessy.

I think Dad is disappointed that we never got to meet.
He often talks about you.
Says it’s a shame that you had your accident before Mum got pregnant
He has a lot of stories about you.

I do wonder how much of what he tells me is true.
It can’t all be drunk man from Dublin stories.
I wish we had met. I’d have had my first beer much earlier.

I’d like to think that we’d get on. I’m a wannabe performer too.
Some call me a show-off.
It would have been nice to have another one in the family I could relate to
Someone to play off?
Then again, maybe that would have gotten annoying eventually

It’s strange to write this for you
I feel I should tell you about my life
My hopes and dreams
You know, the standard stuff.
But, Dad says you’re like me (or I’m like you)
You prefer talking than listening.

There is only one picture of you in the house I remember
It’s one of you at Mum and Dads wedding.
You look absolutely shit faced!
Rum and black in one hand, a cigarette in the other
You don’t look steady on your feet.
Your grin is something though.
Kind of proud and cheeky
Like you’re laughing at a punchline only you’d get.

You look like you’re having fun.

If it turns out there is no afterlife then I apologise for wasting your time.
If there is one, I hope we can meet up someday and properly have this conversation.

I’ll probably find you near the bar.

Cheers Val

Your Grandson
David