Today, I said goodbye to my grandad.
He was 94 — the fourth of eight children, and a man who carried a lifetime of stories with him, most of them about family. He could spin a yarn like no one else, and somehow, they never got old.
He loved horses and books, fishing and crabbing and camping. Some of my best memories are of crabbing with him on his boat, or being handed Black Beauty when I’d run out of books. He loved Slim Dusty and countless other things like gardening and cooking.
He had that rare kind of presence — the kind that didn’t demand attention but earned it anyway. You always knew when he was in the room, not because he made noise, but because he made space. For laughter, for memory, for belonging.
I often wonder if I was drawn to writing because I grew up listening to his stories, or if it was just happenstance. Either way, I know this much: the final book in The Eldritch Series is dedicated to both him and my nanna. It feels right to honour those who came before me — the ones who shaped me long before I ever put pen to page.
If you’d like to read it, Sovereignty is available for preorder here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FFG7PHCP
