Gramps

Maaa maaaann!

Not to sound too much like Sinead O'Connor's hit 'Nothing compares to you', but it has been 22 days and around 10 hours since my grandpa, Bernard Louis Gosschalk, died.

Making it to 91 years is a heck of an innings - bearing in mind the myriad of health problems Gramps had - but to me, and many others, the world is a darker and less beautiful place.

The passing of Gramps causes a heartache that I am not sure will ever heal but equally what Gramps meant to me and those that loved him is something nobody can ever steal.
I find it hard to sleep these days, as my thoughts invariably drift to him. At least in my dreams there is a vestige of my hero that I can spend time with. He burned the candle at both ends and it gave off a lovely light (Edna St Vincent Millay), but that light has been extinguished.
The planet has been depopulated with an 'oy vey' here and a 'shucks' there.
Undoubtedly cheese sales will most certainly take a hit at Jarlsberg - one of his faves.
The day Gramps left this world was the worst day of my life, his funeral overwhelmingly melancholic.

Quite simply, I worshipped the man in so many ways. I suppose I had this puerile image that Gramps was invincible, that the big man would be with me forever - I was wrong.

To paraphrase novelist and poet Lawrence Durrell: "The best way to get over someone is to turn them into literature."
That, and reading his autobiography Gramps made for the family, is what I will try to do.

So who was BLG?
Gramps was born in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, in 1925.
BLG studied, practiced and then taught architecture.
Together Gramps and his wife Ruth did all they could to oppose the Apartheid regime, the former went to prison twice for, in short, supposedly betraying his 'race' and fighting for black rights and the latter, with her young children, being put under house arrest for the same sort of thing.
Gramps was tortured by the police and beaten to make up lies that certain blacks did certain things, but he was unmoved, or as it goes in one of his favourite poems 'Invictus' - his head was bloody, but unbowed. He was the master of his fate, he was the captain of his soul.

One legend with another!

The pair also campaigned for women's rights, before getting thrown out of the country in 1966 for helping the black cause. No actual crimes were committed by the two but that didn't matter then.

In 1994, Gramps was personally thanked by Nelson Mandela himself (that photo has sat by my bedside for many years) for his efforts in the anti-apartheid struggle. As he said, "Gosschalks never surrender."
That is just a glimpse into why we treasured him.

Gramps also possessed a brilliant mind, rapier-like wit and a kindness that made you feel very special. Oh, and a healthy dollop of kookiness. Now that I have in spades, the kookiness bit.
Of the many wonderful stories that I have of my grandpa, one sticks out.

In the late 1940's, The Queen Mother paid a visit to the University of Cape Town, where Gramps was reading architecture. To toast her arrival, a bottle of Bristol Cream sherry was laid out for her and as a representative of the university, Gramps was there to greet her.
Whilst old Elizabeth was touring the facility, an interesting idea began to fester in BLG's mind.
Gramps and a friend of his rushed down to the university bar and bought a shoddy bottle of sherry - I think you know where I am going with this...
When nobody was around, they ever so sneakily emptied the vile liquid into the container and then made off with the precious drink themselves.
They returned not long after to watch the Royal Family guzzle down that bitter drink without a flicker of disgust or any emotion on their face. I can only begin to imagine what it must have been like to witness that.

Kooky!

So that was the time my beloved Gramps robbed the Royal Family. He said he would write a letter of apology one day, but I do not think he ever did.

I always knew Gramps was cut from a different cloth but it was only when I finally got my act together, became autodidactic and developed a feverish thirst for knowledge just before I turned 21, did I fully appreciate what a wonder he was.

When he moved from his house in Manchester to a care home in East Finchley around three years ago, we became very close. I would go along to the home, alone, and we would have history lessons together for many hours - maybe with a cheeky glass of Appletiser, god's nectar, or two.
Without fail he would tell me, in such detail, the ins and outs about the Munroe Doctrine, about Otto Von Bismarck, the Ancient Greeks and, most important of all, the significance of why Ricky Ponting chose to bowl first at Edgbaston in that legendary second test in the 2005.

But time waits for no man and with each visit, Gramps' health declined and our chats became shorter and more one-sided. BLG would curse his memory, his increasing frailness and what life was becoming for him - a nightmare.

He had already been hit with strokes, skin cancer and the loss of two wives, firstly Ruth to cancer in 1994 and then his second wife Zelda to Alzheimer's in the mid noughties.
To see my hero reduced to skin and bones was soul destroying.
I was torn between not wanting my living deity to pass on but being very aware that Gramps was in agony and wanting nothing more than to die.

Gramps got his wish on March 4, the hurt is over. Gramps is now free.

For now, at least, I have not really comes to terms with that. Since his death I have composed two emails asking him questions before stopping myself short and realising he won't answer them. It is so very hard to accept.
Because I loved him with a longing, I loved him without knowing how, or when, or from where. I loved him straightforwardly, without complexities or pride. I loved him because I know no other way than this (Pablo Neruda).

A verse that changed my life for the better was reading the words of Walt Whitman in his poem 'Oh me, oh life.'

Happier, sleepier times

"That the powerful plays goes on and you may contribute a verse."
That is a mantra I think we should all live by. But what will your verse be?
Gramps carved out an extraordinary verse or two in his life and it made my life and the lives of countless others immeasurably better.

I will never forget when Gramps said he had tears of joy when I got my first job in journalism and I know that Gramps was incredibly proud of his four fantastic children, his many wonderful grandchildren and now his little great grandchild, Lara.

It was a privilege to follow you my brother, my teacher, my legend.
Thank you Gramps, I loved you more than you ever knew.
Thank you for teaching us all how to be heroes.

P.S. We did this for his 90th birthday :D
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GbskIlK__I