Last weekend my mother called me on my mobile phone. This was a surprise because I normally call my parents not vice versa. I sensed something was wrong and unfortunately I was right.

She had called to say that my Grandfather had died. This was my last remaining biological grandparent and was my dads father. Due to reasons which are not appropriate to discuss here I only remember meeting my grandfather once when I was ten or so. I didn't know the man so although I was sad to hear about his death my main concern was, and is, for my father and his siblings.

In terms of my own feelings I wish I had got the chance to know him better but sometimes life doesn't work out that way. My thoughts are with my Dad. I feel bad for being so far away at a time like this but my dad knows that I love him and he's got my mum and his siblings to look out for him so I know he'll be ok. He's one tough dude my dad.

So, in short, this diary entry is dedicated to the memory of my grandather, Robert McCaighey.

p.s eagle eyed readers will have spotted the mistake above. It's actually not a mistake it's just the way my grandfather spelt his name.