By the time I was born, my maternal grandmother had been dead for about 6 years, and my paternal grandmother died not long after that, so I have no memory of either of them. My mother has a poor relationship with her father; he was an alcoholic who used to beat my uncles. So that left only my paternal grandfather, but he was good enough to cover all of my grandparents. The most hyper, fun, interesting man that ever existed. When I lost him, in 2006, I was just a young child, with no real understanding of death, but that didn’t stop me from feeling the five stages of grief.

1) Denial and Isolation:
I grew up in England and my Granddad lived some 400 miles away in Glasgow, I saw him a lot of course, but when he died I was down south and had no way of confirming that he was gone. His demise left an unimaginable chasm that couldn’t be filled, so denying the reality of the situation was just a natural human response. At school, I hid myself all day, I didn’t talk like I usually would and certainly never put my hand up. I remember thinking about him the entire day.

2) Anger:
While the doctors who diagnose people with terminal illness or even the people themselves are common targets for people’s anger following death, mine turned to other children my age. For months after my Granddad’s death, children who had more grandparents left made me irrationally angry. If someone would mention one of their grandparents, I would become depressed and angry. To this day, I find it difficult to cope when people complain about their grandparents, because I always think that if I had any grandparents left, I would be grateful every day.

3) Bargaining
One of my biggest regrets in life was the last time I saw my Granddad. I was six and my brother seven; he had just got a new Gameboy. I was scared to see my favourite man in the whole wide world in a hospital bed, though I didn’t really understand. Me and my brother spent most of the duration of our visit in the corner, playing. I’m sure I said “bye” to him, but I didn’t really get the chance to say goodbye. I spent ages bargaining that somehow if I had spoken to him, he would’ve got better, that somehow I could have provided him with the strength to overcome his terminal cancer.

4) Depression
Depression took hold from the minute my mum sat us down at the breakfast table and told me and my brother that he was gone and continued for months, while every other stage went on, so did depression. For ages, I was completely preoccupied with him being gone and that I would never see my Granddad again. His death left a hole in my life that could never be filled.

5) Acceptance
It may sound cheesy, but here, eight years on, I still think of my Granddad every day, his loss still saddens me, but at the same time I can accept his life for what it was. He lived life to the fullest, and the nurses that were with him when he passed said that he never stopped laughing and joking. He will always be my biggest inspiration in life.