Goodbye Bill.
I was sad to hear the news about Albert Finney's death today as he was a great actor, but also because he's long had a special significance to me.
It was while watching the film Big Fish a number of years ago that I noticed how much Finney resembled my grandfather; something which took me surprise and knocked me for six. And it was during the scene where his character listens as his son beautifully narrates how his life story will end that I was so overtaken by how much he looked like my dad's dad (who had died five years previously) I was suddenly in an involuntary flood of tears.
Watching that scene, it hit home that my grandfather had gone and I'd never see him again and that I never knew him as well as I would have liked. He'd been a strong presence in my family: an ex-sailor who'd joined the navy before the war and ended up serving throughout (and being involved in the D-Day Landings), who had a cutting sense of humour, but who had always been nice to me. His later years were mainly spent at his kitchen table doing crosswords - he had a special dictionary that listed words in length order, which he used like a key, pretty much removing the need for thought, but he enjoyed it - and when he wasn't doing that he was teasing my dad (who lived with him) or making his culinary speciality of egg sandwiches that he'd always suggest for dinner without fail.
While I'd often be dropped off at his house while my parents went to football, it's fair to say I spent most of the time visiting his neighbours Beat & Bert - an old couple I'd unofficially adopted as an extra grandparent set. Consequently, I never asked him much about his time in the navy, if at all; it was a missed opportunity. He was the last of my grandparents to be alive, and when he went, a whole era went with him.
Seeing Tim Burton's beautiful rendition of Finney's character's last moments, I couldn't deal with it. He looked too much like my grandfather for me to separate him from it. Ever since, I think of that scene when my grandfather enters my head and imagine it to be how he said goodbye to us..and I still find it hard to deal with; it's bittersweet.
It was while watching the film Big Fish a number of years ago that I noticed how much Finney resembled my grandfather; something which took me surprise and knocked me for six. And it was during the scene where his character listens as his son beautifully narrates how his life story will end that I was so overtaken by how much he looked like my dad's dad (who had died five years previously) I was suddenly in an involuntary flood of tears.
Watching that scene, it hit home that my grandfather had gone and I'd never see him again and that I never knew him as well as I would have liked. He'd been a strong presence in my family: an ex-sailor who'd joined the navy before the war and ended up serving throughout (and being involved in the D-Day Landings), who had a cutting sense of humour, but who had always been nice to me. His later years were mainly spent at his kitchen table doing crosswords - he had a special dictionary that listed words in length order, which he used like a key, pretty much removing the need for thought, but he enjoyed it - and when he wasn't doing that he was teasing my dad (who lived with him) or making his culinary speciality of egg sandwiches that he'd always suggest for dinner without fail.
While I'd often be dropped off at his house while my parents went to football, it's fair to say I spent most of the time visiting his neighbours Beat & Bert - an old couple I'd unofficially adopted as an extra grandparent set. Consequently, I never asked him much about his time in the navy, if at all; it was a missed opportunity. He was the last of my grandparents to be alive, and when he went, a whole era went with him.
Seeing Tim Burton's beautiful rendition of Finney's character's last moments, I couldn't deal with it. He looked too much like my grandfather for me to separate him from it. Ever since, I think of that scene when my grandfather enters my head and imagine it to be how he said goodbye to us..and I still find it hard to deal with; it's bittersweet.
