There’s no easy way to sum up what my Pappa meant to me. He was the one who raised me, who stood by me through everything, and who gave me the kind of love that never had to be spoken to be felt. He was my safe place, my biggest supporter. Some of my very earliest memories are of me and my Pappa. He was always there, right by my side from the very beginning. We had a bond that I still feel in my heart every day. That kind of closeness doesn’t fade, it stays with you, and it shapes you. Pappa always gave me money to go to the corner shop. He’d buy me ice cream and sweets just to make me smile, and he took me to the park like it was the highlight of his day. Those moments are some of the happiest in my life and I know they were for him too. I knew I was his favorite grandchild, and he showed it not with words but through everything he did. When he lived with me, he cared for me like I was his whole world; changing my nappies, taking me to church, ironing my school uniform and he had his own way of putting cream on my face, rubbing it in firmly, no gentleness, while I laughed and tried to get away. Those little moments filled with love are what I miss most. Pappa was a real character, always playful and full of life. One of his favorite games was sneaking behind someone and tapping the back of their head, then looking away like it wasn’t him. We all knew it was, especially when he tried to hold in his laughter with that cheeky grin. And with the newspaper, no face was safe; he’d draw mustaches and pottus on every photo, turning serious news into his own comedy canvas. That was Pappa, always making us laugh. If music was playing, he was the first to dance. Whether at family gatherings or just in the living room with the TV on, he danced with joy, not caring who was watching. He wanted everyone to feel that happiness too. I will carry him with me in every memory, every kind act, I was proud to be his grandchild, and I will love him forever. Rest in peace, Pappa.