Grandad Grandad, this is the hardest thing I’ve had to write. It’s caused so much upset and strife. I guess that means just one thing You made a big impact on my life I was blessed to have you as my Grandad, I have so many memories to hold. This makes your passing so sad, But your great grandchildren will be told. When we would visit you at your house We would know what to expect. Granma with a cup of tea And you a glass of Grouse. Growing up with you Was always fun and games. Now that you have left us, Things will never be the same. The story’s you would tell About the places you had been, Would paint the perfect picture And create a beautiful scene The times we holidayed in France Were fun and never boring The only real issue Was you incessant snoring. You were always well dressed Clean shaven, a real gent The time you spent in the army Was clearly time well spent You were fantastic at playing snooker In the bay horse you found you fame When teaching us the ropes “It’s a thinking man’s game” You used to come to our house Once a month to come and clean. You left notes all around the place So we knew just where you’d been. You had a beautiful wife in Maureen You really couldn’t beat her. From all the story’s that you told You never mentioned Rita As time passed by Dementia had taken hold We watched you fade away We had your body, but had lost your soul. We would hope to catch you on a good day When we visited you in care. Instead we would get silence And often a vacant stare. Your passing is hugely upsetting And yes it’s very sad Your body was there but you were not But you were still my Grandad. I know deep down you will always be with us And really not too far. All we need do is look up And you’ll be the brightest star. For now it is good-bye But only for a while One thing that will stay with me forever Is your infectious smile.

I first met Dennis in nineteen eighty four When I asked for her hand and he gave it. “You can take the rest of her you know ... !” He was funny and smart, my dad-in-law. Dennis has dementia. He's laughing and joking with the children, Grandad Dennis in nineteen ninety three, That’s my young son he’s with on the DVD We made, that holiday in France. Dennis has dementia. In the next century he danced with his granddaughter At her wedding. I watch my girl twirl With her grandad, a twinkle in his eye. What did he say that day? He looked happy. Dennis has dementia. I see a film on a mobile phone, Dennis Sits crumpled in a chair, in a home, not his own. Clapping half-heartedly not quite to the beat Surrounded by his family trying to keep him in time. Dennis has dementia. “He doesn't even recognise us now.” But what do they know? What do we know? What does he know? Dennis has dementia. What does he know? Tony Johnson. 21st August 2018