Grandpa Tim

I woke up to the sound of music,
But not that of which I'd like to hear,
Church bells.
Chiming a sad tune for poor Grandpa Tim's funeral.

I didn't want to see him dead,
As he had told us we couldn't see him when he was on his death bed,
I thought it was wrong,
Not what he'd wanted.

My Mother tried to make me look at the body,
A way of last respects,
And I told her it was morbid,
Told her it was rude,
He hadn't wanted us to see him then,
Why was it any different now?

I ushered my sister from the room,
She was but five after all,
She was crying but she didn't really understand.

My Mother thought she knew it all,
But she didn't know about the letters he had sent me,
He said he trusted me more than his daughter,
And that I was a fighter,
Quiet,
But willing.

He said if I wanted something I'd stop at nothing to get it,
But not if it was for me,
But for others,
For the world.

We left the funeral and I read his letters over and over...

It was ten years later,
At my age of 23,
When I was cleaning out the attic,
With my two kids,
My wife was downstairs,
Heavily pregnant with another child.

Down from a chest,
Filled with my old toys,
I came across some paper,
That felt so old,
Carefully I pulled it out,
And read it through,
A tear fell from my eye and smudged the ink.

The ink of what had said 'Grandpa Tim'.
After all these years I'd forgotten how much he'd meant to me,
And now I remembered him so vividly...

My children saw something was wrong and came running up to me,
"Daddy, what is wrong?"
They asked,
I shook my head and told them nothing.

And went downstairs to see,
My wife in pain,
With tears in her eyes.

There was blood on the chair,
Her waters had broke,
I rung up an ambulance,
I told them the case and within five minutes they were there.

They laid her on a stretcher,
That shouting screaming mess.

The paramedics told me to take the children and go with them alone.

I shouted to tell them to come downstairs and get into the car.

Within 15 minutes we were there.
I left the children in the waiting room,
And went to see my wife,
There she was with a baby in her arms,
"It's a boy"
She whispered,
"What shall we call it, William ?"

A tear dropped from my eye,
As I mouthed the word 'Tim'.

"Let's call him Tim." I said,
And looked up to the sky.

And for a moment I thought I almost saw,
Grandpa Tim,
Smiling,
Looking down on me...