My Gangi was always the silliest in the room, cracking many jokes some funny, some not, sometimes new ones but most of them were reheated. Unfortunately for all of us, Dad here is carrying his legacy, and Mattis isn’t far behind. Two subsequent generations of occasionally funny men all thanks or because of Gangi. God spare us. 

My Gangi was also the first professor I’ve ever had. The huge Encyclopaedia he gifted me is still at home and I remember it being double my weight at the time, it probably still is. Gangi taught me about space, the way gravity somehow creates concentric patterns on rocks,  would tell me about birds and planes, correct my English, would praise me for saying schedule and not skedule, Potters and not Po-ers Bar and explain the difference between further and farther.  Gangi also taught me how to solve suguru puzzles. We would take it in turns , I would attempt to finish the puzzle and he would do the next one. Sometimes I’d get stuck and he would come to my rescue, whilst affirming that it was okay to struggle as “that one is a very difficult one indeed”. It was probably ridiculously simple to him but he always made me feel like we were equally as stumped regardless of the fact that he’d been doing this for years and me only a few days, he made me feel like we were in it together.  

I remember thinking my grandad is an endless pit of knowledge which made it so much more flattering whenever we would call me bright or clever. And one beautiful thing about Gangi is that if he said it, he meant it. 

My Gangi was also, as you all probably already know by now, one of my biggest fashion icons. I have shamelessly stolen many of his clothes, some of which he did actually  gave me willingly, believe it or not. He had given me one of his polo shirts, a bright red one that he was going to get rid of. A few months later, I told him how much I loved it. He smiled, and lifted his chin, so proud that his 18 year old granddaughter liked his fashion.  He then told me to follow him, opened his wardrobe and urged me to grab anything I wanted. I was in shock. I refused out of politeness although I already had my eye on the one I’m wearing today. He assured me that I could pick any so eventually I did. That was like Christmas Day. His clothes are normally those that get me the most compliments from friends. I feel so cool and edgy when they ask me “where did you get your shirt from?” And I get to answer that it was my grandad’s. To be honest, they could probably find most of his shirts and jackets in an M&S men’s section, but I always feel like his clothes are Gangi-certified, rare, one of a kind luxury items and it makes me feel so so special when I wear them. Susie and Em can relate to this but our sense of style did diverge when it came to one scandalous item of clothing: ripped jeans. One thing Gangi never forgot, even with dementia, was how much he hated ripped jeans and he never forgot to let us know through some joke or comment, the classic “I hope they charged you less for these, there isn’t any fabric !!” I’d never thought I’d say this, but I think I miss it now. 

Lastly, My Gangi was one of my first debating opponents. I probably get part of my opinionated side from him, or at least our friendly debates helped develop this aspect of my personality, for better or for worse. We used to discuss matters  concerning immigration, religion, sexuality, gender roles, what happens after death, does the concept of spiritual soul really exist or are we just atoms and chemicals and nothing more. As you can probably imagine we disagreed on virtually everything, but at the end of each conversation he would smile, his face would light up with pride and he would tell me how smart and articulate I was. Gangi made me feel so mature, so special. 
Gangi was so much more to me than those four things, comedian, professor, fashion influencer and debating opponent. But these are the things that have shaped me the most, the things I will carry with me always.  

There was Gangi before dementia, and Gangi after dementia but one thing never changed, he would light up anytime he saw us walk through the door. He would tell us how beautiful we are, compliment my smile, my clothes, my voice. I don’t want to brag but we even called me his most favorite a couple times towards the end although I know in reality we all were his most favouritists. He cherished us grandchildren so so much and I think I can confidently say none of us will ever question that.  

Going back to one of those debates or rather deep conversation we had that I mentioned earlier, the one about life after death, Gangi’s take was that there is absolutely nothing after you die. He was convinced that we are just organic beings, that all things end and that thinking that there is an afterlife, or heaven or anything else is silly. Yep, not the most tolerant my Gangi, always the rational scientist.  Well Just in case he was wrong, and he can here us all today I’ll say this. I love you Gangi and I miss you so so much. And as I once told you as a little girl if it were possible to chose our grandfathers and buy them from the grandad shop, I would’ve picked you instantly every single time. 

Love you loads and loads and loads. 

Your favourite youngest granddaughter.