Picture of my Grandad with his second wife Dora and (in the centre) my truly beautiful mother, Maureen

Wilson. Loved and missed since 1971.

A fair child sat on the end of the bed saying “Grandad, I love you today.
You’re 89 this morning, birthday man, I can’t stop loving you anyway”

And a little boy ran up to Grandad, whispered quietly so no-one would hear
“Happy Birthday to my Grandad from Iain.” The old man moved to wipe the boy’s tear.

Two women stood by, just watching the young, one raven as the other was red.
They walked up to the man, each took a hand, as both children were joined by his bed.

“We love you and we miss you dad” they spoke, “we stopped to wish you a happy day.
Eighty nine is a grand old age for you, we see you’re tired so we’ll be on our way.”

The old man smiled with loving eyes and heart, and said “you know, it’s time to say goodbye.”
Maureen nodded and knew. “We’ll meet again.” After they left, he started to cry.

He cried tears for those of his friends gone past. All those special moments in his life.
His thoughts drifted to Siamese jungles. Ah yes! He saw a vision of his wife.

My darling! You know I always loved you. When you died – I never let you go.
I remarried since, but my heart felt pain. My love, I’m joining you soon, you know.

My Chinese beauty, love. Laughter and joy. Lover of the East. Wild, rich land.
It was a special gift God gave to me, on the day he gave to me your hand.

But as he gave to me, he took away. For three years you were my love, so true.
And before you left, you gave two daughters. Mary, as I look at one, she’s you.

There is so much I have to tell you, love. My travels, our children and my life.
Time couldn’t fade your lovely memory, ‘twas not for love I replaced my wife.

Mary, our Maureen, she’s raven as you. Dulcie, our baby, is spoilt and wild.
In my dying state, she still causes pain, remains without a husband or child.

But I still see you love, in our Maureen, I feel your loveliness showing through.
She has your temper, but your sweet, sweet smile. Mary, she is the image of you.

When I was held a Japanese prisoner, while World War Two was raging by,
So many were lost, gave up hope for life, but thoughts of you gave me will to try.

I hope you have thought of me, dear Mary. My thoughts have forever been with you.
And two grandchildren from our sweet Maureen. One son, one daughter, she gives to you.

My second wife, she did try to carry my child. He was dead near birth, my only son.
Baptised Iain, my love, it shattered me. I thought the war of pain was won.

In years Maureen sent news of her child, she called him Iain. I see him as mine.
I love, cherish, favour the freckled lad. He’ll grow a caring man in time.

Our Fiona is a bright fair lovely. So very English, such as precious child.
You would love her dearly, her smiling face. Mocking nature, temperament mild.

I can leave now I know they’re in safety. Their future I have provided well.
Someday they will prove success in their lives. Yes, Mary, as I know, time will tell.

And my darling Mary, will you tell me, did you meet my father I never knew?
He was a good man, stepfather told me. I will join him as I’m joining you.

And did you make my mother’s acquaintance? Up there – she shares the heavens with you.
The beauty of Auckland, I loved her so. Time to think of my loved ones so true.

Much pain in life, I pray to leave this world and my spirit join with you today.
You will feed me light through my blinding eyes. Time to leave now my dues here are paid.

Then the wrinkled old man just shut his eyes, he murmured something about his soul.
And he dreamt of colours in the rainbow, he saw future pathways paved with gold.

And the shadows fell on his dying breath, when his paths were trod and tales were told.
And Hark! The herald angels called to him, “It’s time to come join your friends of old.”

Rest in peace, Dear Grandad. I still miss you.