by Athena Brady

Created on: February 15, 2010   Last Updated: March 10, 2010

I first met my grandfather, when I was eight years old. It was a very exciting time for me, as I had never been to an airport before. As we waited for the plane to land in Liverpool Airport England, I was filled with anticipation, what would my grandfather be like ? Of course I had seen pictures of him and mum had told me stories about him, but I had no idea what he was really like, as a person.

Mum told me not to bombard him with questions, as he had had a long flight from the United States and would need time to settle down. As the plane landed, I could hardly wait for him to disembark from the plane.

“There he is” Mum said excitedly as he stepped off the plane.

The next 20 minutes felt like hrs whilst we waited for him. Eventually this tall thin man came towards us and instantly I liked him. Judging his character, in the way only a child can. A thick flock of black hair adorned his wrinkled face. I ran towards him with the innocent trusting of a child and he winked cheekily at me, before picking me up and swinging me around. My mother and stepfather looked on in amazement at my forwardness and laughed.

Hello's said, he produced from under his arm, a brown paper package tied with string and handed it to me. I quickly unwrapped it , watched by the laughing spectators. It contained the most precious present I had ever had. One which I refused to give up even when I grew out of it. A red tartan ¾ length coat with big gold buttons. I took off my old coat and handed it to my mother. I put on the new one and took hold of my grandfather's hand and proudly strode out of the airport.

Over the years our bond grew and we spent many hours chatting in the garden. Well truthfully it was me chatting non stop and him listening, nodding and replying when needed. My grandfather was a master farmer well, that is what I nicknamed him. No matter what he did to the earth, it yielded to his will and produced a fruitful bounty.

Born in Cavan Ireland, he had grown up in a farming community. As a younger man he had a farm in a place called Summer Hill were my grandmother is buried.

Mum had given him half of our large back garden to grow whatever he wished. It was amazing what he got into that space and to this day I have never tasted produce like it. I believe he sowed the love into those seeds and the finished articles were “Soul food” He would show me how to judge the weather, by looking at the colours in the night sky and how to determine

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