We called him a lot of names

We called him a lot of names, Old man, large granddad, grumpy granddad. It was always very easy to forget the man behind his foggy eyes and the life it etched into the wrinkles. His gently shaking hand passes me my second cup of tea, his wedding band proudly hangs from his figure. He shuffles towards his chair, unaware of the animated conversations happening around him.

That time is gone now, it slipped past us one Sunday morning. His house is quiet, the kitchen floor is dry, and his kettle is cold. The ever-beating hours past and a cold numbness seeps into our hearts. Our quiet words now discuss two people, the grumpy old man and granddad. We desperately try to remember the man we loved and forget the man that died. We love you granddad and won’t forget the man you were. 

I feel like this is missing something, any ideas?