So I have gathered the motivation to jump on line and post something. So it has been two weeks since my Grandfathers funeral and I think it has knocked me around a little more than I would like to admit. In the lead up to his funeral all I could think about was if the town would actually give a shit about him concidering what Katherine is like at the moment. Lets just say it is a long way from the town that I grew up in.
When we arrived at the church the first thing I noticed was the cars parked all over the place. Then I walked in to the church and there were people everywhere I knew almost all of them and some a didn't. It was an interesting feeling that I had at that time, a mixture of relief and pride. The service was good there was some good stories told. Seen that when My grandfather arrived in Katherine the population was 400 we had a bit of Katherine's history mixed with my grandfathers.
When the service had finished we proceeded to the cemetery in a large convoy. It was at this time it hit me, I noticed that the police had blocked off the entire town. They were blocking vehicles from turning down the Victoria Highway from the Stuart Highway and then cleared the way through the town all the way to the cemetery. I started sobbing! I knew my grandfather meant something to this town and it was just received my proof.
When we arrived at the cemetery my brothers, younger cousins and I carried grandpa to his eventual resting place. When we put him down I looked up and saw a mound of soil with eight shovels stuck in it, then it hit me we will be burying grandpa. All the men of the family started shoveling, as we were filling the hole we were joking that he was looking down saying to God that he has finally made the lot of us do some physical work. When my family and I got back to the hotel where we were staying I started to notice the blisters on both hands and I thanked Grandpa for his last gift to me!