A week ago, I learned that my grandfather passed away

As per tradition with my culture, I was told that as the eldest male amongst the grandchildren there, I had to write a speech about him.

This was a struggle.

Because every single minute I’ve ever spent with the man, was difficult.

We didn’t speak the same language, barely interacted beyond translations from my mother and a strong handshake that gradually got weaker with his age.

He seemed fond of my brother and I, that we had grown up quite tall and strong for boys our size.

But beyond his grateful smile, I don’t really know the man. I didn’t even really know his full name, let alone what he did in the past for a job or his history.

In truth, he was very much a stranger to me, with the sketch outline of a grumpy personality.

The speech I wrote wasn’t very long. If there was a sketch outline of the man, I didn’t exactly fill it in. All I did was just bold the outline itself with a thicker marker.

A letter to my Grandfather …. 

When I think about my grandfather, I think about how happy he always looked when he saw any of his grandchildren come up to greet him. Our family has always been big, but there seems to be a light in his eyes that glowed when he saw his grandkids around him. 

There’s a quote that I think is so true of so many grandparents, that I think about often … “That’s the thing about being a grandfather. I get to do all the things I wished I’d done with my children, and the things I regret, I get to do different.” Grandfather was always so gentle with all of us, from me all the way down to Isaac.

I like to think that he loved being a grandfather, because when we all came around, he seemed happy, content that there are kids running around, adults talking and making a fuss over him and grandma. There was a peace on his face that could only come from having family over. 

I really appreciated his quiet company. I and all the grandkids may not have been able to speak with him all the time, but we knew that he was proud of us, happy to see us and always glad when we could spare some time to visit him. It showed in the smile he greeted us with, the hug he would give us and the handshake he would offer. 

That quiet pride and love he had for all of us was special and we’re all going to miss that in our lives moving forwards.  

So thank you Grandfather for always being happy to see us, for allowing us to make you smile and for being a grandfather that we could always make time for. 

We’re all going to miss you and we hope that you can rest peacefully, knowing that we’re all going to make you proud. 

We’ll look after your children now. 

As you can see, it’s not exactly a illuminating biography of the man. In fact, I was so stuck on what to say for his small obituary, that I had to borrow a line from one of the greatest fictional grandfathers in film history, Kevin Costner’s John Dutton of Yellowstone fame.

I suppose the best line I wrote was “looking after your children”, which served as a rather poignant reminder of our duties to look after the elderly.

Ultimately, I felt more sorry for my mother, who was there when he passed, looking after him in the retirement home. What a traumatic experience. I can’t imagine the grief, loss and anguish she felt, when she realised that he died right in front of her.

My grandfather’s death got me thinking though. Pondering about my own mortality and how I view the world.

I suppose it’s time that I start viewing the world more like an adult. Fearful of the smallest thing that could end you.

After all, the next day I could suffer a heart attack, or get into a car crash. I could slip on something and hit my head on something as it travels down. I could get bit by a venomous animal, crushed by construction work or be unfortunate enough to be on a beach, in the middle of a mass shooting.

But if I’m truly honest, what haunted me throughout the entire funeral, was this one question: How am I going to be remembered?

Seeing the number of people that turned up to the funeral, I was struck by how little friends he had. It was mostly extended family and beyond that turned up. I didn’t see any or many drinking buddies or fellow church-goers, it was just a very solemn affair amongst family.

I didn’t hear any fun anecdotes, or wistful nostalgic trips down memory lane. Instead it was just a few photos of him back in his home country and more recent selfies that had been taken by his daughters.

Will I be remembered this way? Summed up in a collage of 15 photos? Will there be anyone left to actually tell my story? Will they capture me in the way I want to be captured?

Those questions haunted me the entire funeral weekend.

So I suppose the question I want to answer here in a written format, if I was to die tomorrow, what would I want to be remembered for?

I’m struck by a certain film that I loved as a child, Troy (2004) starring Brad Pitt as the imperious Achilles. In that film, there is a recurring theme about kleos, the ancient Greek term for “glory” or “renown.” Achilles, goes to Tory, because he wants to be remembered. It is not enough that a potential wife and child will remember his name. Instead, he wants it etched into the fabric of human history.

If you stay in Larissa, you will find peace. You will find a wonderful woman, and you will have sons and daughters, who will have children. And they’ll all love you and remember your name. But when your children are dead, and their children after them, your name will be forgotten… If you go to Troy, glory will be yours. They will write stories about your victories in thousands of years! And the world will remember your name. But if you go to Troy, you will never come back… for your glory walks hand-in-hand with your doom. And I shall never see you again.

When I was younger, my desire to earn kleos was all-consuming. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be unique and achieve something that very few have. I would lash out at anything that would pin me in a box, that I was a simple puzzle that could be solved.

This made me learn and be fascinated by a lot of things. Fencing. Skateboarding. Alternate music. Napoleonic History. Roman History. Military tactics. NASA. Formula 1. Classical Music. Krav Maga.

I wanted to be good at everything, so that people could look at me in awe.

My arrogance knew no limits, because deep down, I truly believed I was better than the faceless, nameless “masses” out there.

Nowadays, all the kleos I crave, is in the sport I am mediocre at: tennis.

I’m addicted to winning. It’s my inner crave for glory, ignited again.

But I don’t want people at my funeral talking about what a great tennis player I was. Because I never competed on a professional level, I don’t have the capacity to brag about my skills on court.

At the risk of stroking my ego to obscene levels, I hope that people will talk about me as interesting.

I would like to hear the question: “Did you know Damocles did this?” or “Did you know that Damocles was passionate about this?”

That to me, is the best compliment of all, because it shows that not everyone knew all my interests and that I did have a lot of interests, hobbies and passions.

If I can get those questions and discussion going at my funeral, then I know that I really did do my best to explore as much of life as I could. I didn’t limit myself to just my job and one hobby.

I was a curious individual and that showed. I also hope that I am remembered as a moral man, a guy who tried to make the right and best decisions constantly for his family, friends and partner.

I have so much that I am interested in, on a daily basis.

From a sports perspective, I’m passionate about Baseball, Tennis, Formula 1, Fencing and Cricket.

I’m also intrigued by SailGP, MotoGP, English Premier League, Boxing and Free-Running.

I like to think that I am decent at: Writing, Self-Reflection, Emotional Control, Critical Thinking, Simplification of Complex Concepts, overall Athletics, Cooking, Event Management and Film Criticism.

Things that I’ve had a phase in are: Parkour, Skate-boarding, Piano Playing, Journalism, Marine Biology, Paintball and Krav Maga

What are some of my passionate topics that I love to talk about? Napoleonic History, Roman History, Mythology (Norse, Greek or Egyptian), Geopolitics, Military History, Modern Military Tactics and Equipment, Science-Fiction Novels, Film, Lego, Watches, Metal Music, James Bond … etc. etc.

As I am listing all these things I am interested in, I’ve realised that I can’t really sum up who I am, everything I’ve liked and been dabbling in, in a single blog post.

Not only that, I’m also somewhat afraid that if I can sum up who I am in a blog, then that somehow suggests that I can stop being interesting.

An existential crisis indeed.

To sum up what has been a long ramble about death, and my own legacy in a few succinct words:

I’m afraid that when I die, people won’t remember me as interesting.

And to me, that is the worst type of legacy I could leave behind.

So thank you, Grandfather, for the reminder that I need to stay humble, be willing to learn and remain forever curious about the world around me.

~ Damocles