The family had gathered, grandfather in a large chair. The chair dominated the small room.
Once strong, grandfather was frail, worn by years of toil and care. He saw his youngest grandson, just three.
“Come to your grandad,” he smiled with his hands held out.
The child approached, eyes bright for one he loved, not able to say granddad, “Gangy.”
Grandad sat his grandson on his lap, “How’s my big man?”
“Good, Gangy” he replied.
Grandad slipped a sweet to the boy, “Don’t tell mummy.”
“Hanks,” replied the grandson with a smile.
Gangy now long gone, the memory remains, the child grown to tell the tale.