52 Ancestors Week 3 - Longevity - Grandad Mike

I've often wondered how it is that some people have such long lives. Is it merely genetics or do other factors come into play?

Grandad Mike came into my life when I was nine or ten. You may think that is quite odd, but in fact he was my only grandfather. My mother's father died when I was a baby; my father's father lived on the other side of the world so I never really knew him. But Grandad Mike chose us by marrying my grandmother who had been widowed quite young.

Michael Patrick O'Neill was born in County Waterford, Ireland, although we didn't know he was born in 1921 for many years. He came from a poor family whom I assume subsisted on a tiny piece of land. He had an elder brother, Jack, who never married and stayed on the land. Another brother, Tom, moved to England and his sister, Sister Mary, became a nun. There were few opportunities and Michael emigrated, working in Australia and on Nauru Island, before coming to New Zealand. His field was civil construction: he drove diggers and bulldozers. He was one of those many foreign workers who came to New Zealand to help with the building of hydro power stations and roads in the 1950s and 60s. Visits to my grandparents invariably meant a trip round Bay of Plenty construction sites in his "old jalopy", a pale green Holden ute.

As kids, we loved visiting Nana and Grandad. We always came home with both memories and loot. I'll never forget the day my brother nearly drowned while whitebaiting, or the two gallon flagon of water for that handful of whitebait so we could take them back to Wellington. Loot was usually money, $2 or $5 each which was a fortune, though it could be lollies or chocolate as well. There was always a box of fruit and vegetables in the boot. During the year apple boxes of grapefruit and oranges would turn up at the NZ Road Services for us too.

Sadly, my grandmother passed away quite young and Grandad could easily have drifted out of our lives. He eventually moved into a small flat closer to town where he lived for the best part of 30 years. He became Grandad Mike when his grandchildren had their own families and a new name was needed for the man who always had something in his cupboard for visitors. Over the years, we tried to find out how old Grandad was - he was 82 for some years. It was not until my parents passed away, that he finally confessed he was 18 months older than my dad!

In early 2015, after a number of falls, Grandad had to go into a rest home. In his softly spoken way he charmed the staff, just as he had charmed family, friends and the nuns from the local convent over the years. My biggest concern was what would happen to his cat - there had been several over the years including the Siamese Fishface and Gentle Ben. The latest was a fairly ordinary tabby, which was somewhat elusive when little people were around. It turned out that this cat was not his - it officially belonged to the neighbour but it lived at Grandad's house. 

Aged 95, Grandad Mike passed away. He had outlived his brothers and his three step-children. If there was one word I would use to describe him it be generous. Michael valued family and built those bonds by giving. I think that generous attitude was what kept him going for so long.