The best memory I have of Wattie, my great granddad, is a little brass frog that he would try to give me every time I saw him. As soon as I was old enough to crawl, I would play with it. I would make it jump across people’s shoes and by the time I could walk, I could make it jump on their faces!
I know the frog isn’t a memory of Wattie, but it’s something of him that is really important to me. I have the frog in my room and I have done since Wattie passed away. The frog has a big grin on its face and when I see it, I remember that I am never actually alone.