And while it wasn't unexpected death always comes as a surprise. I've been away from the UK for more than a decade now and one of the thing that you sacrifice when you commit to following a different path is that you lose touch with the people you shouldn't.
My memories of my granddad are pretty vivid though.
A chalkboard on a small wooden easel. World of Sport with Dickie Davies. 4pm wrestling on a Saturday with Big Daddy, Giant Haystacks and 'crybaby' Jim Breaks. A night when I was allowed to stay up and watch "Carry On Abroad", Round Robins, walking down to the racecourse for tips from trainers and jockeys (and leaving with manure for his garden), Boxing day buffets, tins of cookies, ginger snaps, diet ski yoghurts, Anne Robinson and "The Weakest Link', the Daily Mirror crossword, Andy Capp cartoons, the Grand National, Saltburn valley gardens, getting to open and close the crossing gates and watching the trains progress on a giant board.
It's all good stuff. Warm and human and carefree and innocent. And it's stuff that will stick with me. He was a good man, who lived a quiet life surrounded by people who loved him. And ultimately that's what it's all about. I wish I could have introduced him to his latest great-grandchild but it wasn't to be... still I got a lot from him and that will be passed on