My grandfather, Barry Cohen, or Pop as he was known to me, was a special person in my life as he was in many others. He was a genuinely good man with a warm heart, very thoughtful and kind to others and with a cheeky sense of humour. He treated others kindly throughout his life journey and for that was a popular man.
My earliest memory of him was him being at our family home in Umina one Christmas time. I remember visiting him in my early years on the Central Coast and later in Port Macquarie. When his grandchildren were around his face would light up and he would always be full of energy.
If there was someone who really experienced the highs and lows that life has to offer, it was Pop.
With his wife Norah (Nan) and their young family in the UK he decided to make a brave move to Australia. After a long journey on a ship, they arrived with very little but each other and hopes of their new life ahead. I have heard my Mum's stories about living in a hostel when they arrived and it must have been difficult but I have no doubts his positive spirit helped in those tough times.
Unfortunately life's pressures saw my Pop and Nan drift apart but they both still had so much to learn in life and needed to do it on their own. Some of the memories I have of Pop with his new partner were of big houses and nice cars - he achieved what most would call "success". While he drifted away from his children at this time my mother made every effort to keep in touch so that her children had a grandfather.
Eventually he lost touch with all his family and many years later he faced what most would call "failure" when he ended up back in the UK with nobody, no money and nowhere to live. Even his children did not know that for a while he called the street his home.
Little did he know at the time that he hadn't really tasted success or failure but just learnt what he needed to know to understand what life is really about.
In the final phase of his life he got back on his feet, found a place to call home in Sheffield and regained contact with his family. He met his best friends in life who helped take care of him for his remaining years as his eyesight deteriorated. He was now truly a success because he had learned life's secret to happiness. It's not about status or money or possessions. He learned to appreciate and cherish the things many of us take for granted - a roof over our head, genuine friends to share life with and a family who loves us.
He even got to meet some of his great grandchildren. I remember when I first visited him in the UK with my beautiful boy Hudson. I was reminded of the same face I'd seen on Pop many years before when it lit up with joy. I remember being amazed as I had never seen Hudson warm to someone so quickly - he jumped straight into Pop's lap after meeting him for the first time and gave him a kiss and cuddle. He could obviously tell he was with someone special.
Pop's final weeks were spent in hospital where he underwent several operations. Despite being in a lot of pain he didn't lose his warmth and humour and it was no surprise that he became a favourite amongst the nurses.
He spent his final day with 2 of his loving daughters, including my Mum, and after having endured the pain for too long, he decided to let go and died peacefully in his sleep.
It was no coincidence that before my Nan passed away many years ago she asked to see Pop, then during his final days Pop spoke of wanting to be buried near Nan. Despite the trials and tribulations they faced in life, their love for each other never really died.
Now finally they both have their wish and can be together forever.
Rest in peace Pop...I love you.
