GRANDPOP

Before we got to Lemnos i did a lot of thinking about Grandpop.

I was there on the day he died. Mum and I.

My memories of him are vivid.

Not just of that day, the day he died, but of all the years he lived with us.

He lived with us my whole childhood..From four until i was 12. He was part of our life and part of our family of seven. He was always there, in his room that came off the kitchen...the outside of his room had steps to the backyard..which Dad had painted white so he could see.

His room looked out onto the oak trees. He would walk around them, slowly, always with kind watching eyes. He'd watch us spear the oak leaves with the iron spike we had made for us to spear the leaves..He was always just 'there' after school, looking out for us. I felt secure knowing Grandpop was always there for us. We were never alone at home.

Sometimes if we were making a racket, he'd shake his walking stick at us. We'd laugh and run into the field...poor thing, we, just being kids, he just wanting peace.

He at the top of the table, opposite Dad at the other end, and next to me. I remember him in his brown jumper, smoking his pipe, getting ready to go on a walk to the Post Office, listening carefully when we grumbled. I remember mum tending to him, because he needed medication, and him being so patient. The hard man that my Dad remembers,and the man mum had to always keep an eye on, was not the man i remember.

Grandpop. In his late eighties and nineties when he was part of my life. Grandpop. With the white fine silky white hair.

My friend Maria used to say he was the old man with the lisp and wooden leg. Of course he didn't have a lisp or a wooden leg. He slurped kind of..with a little sound just before he spoke. We were used to it, but when my friends heard him, they noticed. His leg was stiff. He used a walking stick and it was stiff because during the war he was kicked by a horse and spent the rest of his life limping.

So many memories of this wonderful gentle man who i loved with all my heart. I always felt like I was his favourite. Maybe we all did. But he had a way of making me feel special. He would tell me to go into his room and he'd give me a few of his copper coints and show me his Readers' Digest books.

He'd sew up my teddy whenever i'd worn it out from me sucking my finger and rubbing teddy against my nose. Later it was 'clowny' he'd sew up. I still have teddy at home, with his sewing on it. That was special because those little cuddly toys were precious to me, and not to anyone else, except Grandpop.

He called me Chicky. He called my brother Doogie. I think it was because he couldn't always remember our names. Being that there were four of us. He'd only had one son, my dad, so with all of us it must have been a chaotic family he was now attached to!

I remember once he told me if i kept a 2 cent coin for a year, he would give me 10 dollars. Maybe it was his way of teaching me to keep things safe, maybe it was his way of saying he'd be around in a year to give me the ten dollars. Whatever it was, it was a BIG deal to me. Dad even taped it up so i would definately not lose it.

Unfortunately, i never go the ten dollars. It got chucked under the house, never to be found. It created sibling jealousy!

At night when we'd wash dishes Grandpop would tell us stories. But we never knew really, how horrific it must have all been. It's only now i understand the depth of what he must have seen as a medic in World War 1, in Gallipoli and on Lemnos Island.

After reading 'Kittys Song' more thoroughly, (thanks Annie for typing it up and sending it to me, it was VERY helpful!) i realise he came from Australia to do duty on Lemnos and then found himself in Anzac Cove because he caught the wrong boat. He returned to Lemnos later, to serve in the hospital there, where he originally should have been.

I learned a lot about Grandpop after Dad died. From his war medals. And from some notebooks with his writings from Gallipoli in them. And from photos and documents we have. And from Kitty's Song. We all have a part of grandpop.

He wrote of his mate Totty. And of Eygpt. And of Gallipoli. He served people. He carried the sick and wounded. He was not at the First landings, but he was there, doing his bit. The soldier that was not recognised in his time, but is now, by his family. His grandchildren. Annie went to Gallipoli earlier this year, and now i'm off to Lemnos, and to Gallipoli. To see where he was.

We now have archives about his war service thanks to Annie. There is so much more to learn about this man, a man of great dignity, who left Australia for adventure and saw a lot of what he probably wished he hadn't.

For our grandpop. A school master, that went to serve his country. A husband of Jane, a father of James. A grandfather of four, that was loved till the end.

I want to acknowledge him. His service. His kindness. His contribution to the world. And just for being the kind and loving grandpop that i knew him to be.

I loved him so.

And will continue to search his life. For him. Because he meant so much to me.