When I was eight years old, a new family moved in next door. They had a girl my age and a son who was four years younger than me so my brother and I played with them every single day for about four years straight. Over that time, I got to meet some of their relatives, mainly their three grandparents. There was their dad's mum, Joy, and their mum's parents, Colin and Buela. I never really found Joy very chatty and never had a proper conversation with her, but Colin and Buela were two of the friendliest people I'd ever met. They would always want to sit down and see how I was and said hi to everyone they met in the street.
Even eight years ago, Colin was in poor health. I'm not sure exactly what was wrong with him but for the time I knew him, he was never fully healthy. But that worst part is that my friend, his only granddaughter, never ever ever appreciated the things he did for her. He doted on her and her brother and he was loving and caring and sweet. He wanted to spend time with her and get to know her, but she never let him. She always pushed him away and would complain to me about when he and Buela came to visit. She would count down the days until they would leave and would be thoroughly horrible about him.
Colin recently became ill again and had been in hospital for the past few weeks. I don't think my friend ever went with her mum to see him while he was there. Last week, Colin decided he didn't want to receive any more treatment to keep him alive - just painkillers so that he could go painlessly. On Monday, it was said that he would be dead by the end of the week. It happened yesterday, and I hope he went peacefully.
So I just wanted to pay tribute to Colin, one of the nicest, friendliest, sweetest people I ever met. Rest in peace, Colin.
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