MY SAY: Grandparents key to our childhoods
IS IT just me or does everyone think loving grandparents build better families?
A friend of mine lost his pop this week.
Bazel Kingsley Alexander was born in Gympie in 1931.
Bazel worked all over Queensland picking pineapples, clipping beans and driving trucks. He eventually settled back in Gympie and spent 30 years as a foreman at the city council.
In 1953, on a day trip to Noosa, Bazel met his beloved Ivy at the beach.
Ivy was a widow with two little girls.
After Bazel and Ivy married, they had two more girls and built a very busy, loving household.
Bazel cared for Ivy for the last six years of her life, before she sadly passed away in May last year.
Everyone agrees Bazel would have been happy to join his Ivy this week.
Anyway, my friend Glenn wrote a tribute to his pop and in a way, it's a salute to all our granddads.
So sad to lose them but so lucky to have them:
Nights on the lounge room floor watching some cop show on the ABC that we probably wouldn't be allowed to watch at home.
Hot mugs of Milo for us, a cup of tea for Nanna and a teaspoon of Bonox stirred into hot water for him.
Limitless cakes and slices.
The constant torment of whether to have Sars or Pasito, because there was always plenty of both.
The time when I was five and the doctor found a splinter under my toenail that had been there a month and I kept it in a matchbox just so I could show him how big it was.
But I dropped it in the grass. So he grabbed the axe from the shed and made me a new one from the rafter under the house.
Remember the story every time I cut my toenail that grows in two pieces.
Painting the path to the clothesline with water for the 10th time in a morning probably because he wanted some peace and quiet.
Running alongside the train tracks at the back of the house and getting the train driver to blow the air horns.
Or maybe it was because there was a level crossing just ahead and he just told us that.
The neighbour's swing set that we tried to loop a million times.
Hibiscus flowers as big as dinner plates.
A man who never did much cooking or cleaning, taking over the household duties at 80 when Nanna could no longer manage it.
I saw his glow go out when she went.
Decided he didn't need his medication anymore.
Pretty much said he was done without her.
That reckoning came to its natural conclusion at 7.30 this morning.
Love you Pop.
Will always miss your laugh as well as a million other things.
Kiss my beautiful Nanna for me.