Gordon Frank Karg, age 77, leaves behind a loving wife, two surviving children, and four grandchildren.

It's been a week of phone calls in the early hours of the morning. Wednesday morning we were woken by a call from our neighbours because Ben's car was in the middle of the road. It turned out someone had tried to steal it and been interrupted by a police patrol. The attempt left the car in a state that required it be towed away.

Thursday afternoon my grandfather was taken to hospital. My grandmother found him confused and unsure of his surroundings. We suspected a stroke but it seems it may just have been the result of extremely low blood pressure. Early Friday morning we were woken by a call because he'd lost consciousness and been moved into ICU. I spent part of the morning with my grandmother at the hospital. He was non-responsive. Early this morning we heard he had passed away.

I don't think it's really registered yet. My grandmother says the same thing. Tears have been scarce thus far but I'm sure there will be plenty in the days to come. I worry a little about my grandmother. I'm not sure what will happen when all the activity of the next few days dies down and she's left in her home alone. We may have to start looking at alternatives.

Although his health hasn't been that great for a while now, this came as quite a surprise. I don't know if that's good or bad. It's hard to think that just a few days ago I was speaking with him, and to walk through the house and see all of his things. I can't imagine what my grandmother is going through, or will go through when it finally sinks in. I can't imagine losing someone I've spent 54 years of my life with. Frankly, I'd rather not find out.

It occurred to me that I have no pictures of him. My grandmother does, but in all the gigabytes of photos I have stashed around I don't believe I have a single one that includes him. I actually have few photos of my family.

This is where I want to reach for humanity's familiar crutch and believe that there's something waiting for us after death. But rationally I can't believe this.

Rest in peace, Oupa. You live on in our hearts and memories.