Father’s Day 2014 and I’m at my Nan’s council flat in Uxbridge, Greater London. We are having a buffet of all the things in her freezer she wants to clear out. It’s a strange mix of BBQ sticky ribs, a toad in the hole and some weird potato waffles she got from Iceland that taste like cardboard.

We’ve met up every year on Father’s Day since my Dad died when I was 15 in 2008. We make sure we just have a giggle and celebrate my Dad, rather than wallow in the awkward silence of his loss. My dad died very suddenly aged 55. And, on Father’s Day 2014 we began writing Good Grief, my debut comedy-theatre show about bereavement, loss, The Spice Girls, 2016 welfare cuts for grieving families, our favourite bereavement biscuits, awkwardness and ultimately – happiness.

My Nan and I believe humour is the best tool we have in all of us to get over the shit times, and when the town we lived in was voted the happiest place in the whole of Britain on the same day as my Dad’s funeral – we had to laugh.

Six years on, making a theatre show has been a strange process. My Nan used to love the theatre. She would go and watch musicals and would take a lot of pride in going to see a performance. She’s a working-class, ex-dinner lady – a proper grafter, with no time for pretence or “arty-farty” nonsense as she would call it. But she’s still an incredibly open minded individual, who shares similar thoughts and feelings to my generation and feels that a lot of modern theatre leaves her totally excluded.

When we started to plan the show, she said she wouldn’t want to perform on stage – and to be honest I was worried about the logistics of that. As you will see in the show she is physically quite frail, but after some bribes with a bag of Werther’s Originals, she agreed to be filmed for her input, which is projected during the show.

In these films we explore the loss of my father, the silence that follows a tragic death and how we were both treated differently during bereavement. As a bereaved 15-year-old I very much felt that adjustment in school and amongst friends was a painful one – one that left me feeling unable to pursue my goals, become the person I wanted to be and generally left me feeling like a fuck-up.

As a bereaved 80-year old, my Nan felt like she was supposed to be “used to death”. She felt that people thought because she was old, maybe she was more de-sensitised to loss.

“People ask me more about my friends who’ve died than my son. And I want to remember him. It doesn’t upset me. Not talking about him does.”

This quote that my Nan said to me, broke my heart a little bit, because I can’t imagine how painful it must be to lose a child, regardless of age. My Dad was her little boy and so working on this show was quite cathartic for both of us. It allowed us to create something positive out of tragedy.

The finished piece is 50 minutes of my stories as a bereaved teenager, mixed with interjections on how my Nan dealt with grief. If the show goes well, I hope to make a short film with all her stories as we’ve had to be quite decisive with what stays in the theatre piece, considering I’m the only performer on-stage.

But I hope Good Grief brings something new to theatre at this year’s Fringe, an hour of audiences hearing stories from two vulnerable people in a situation like grief, where silence, awkwardness and fear of “saying the wrong thing” often takes precedence. We hope to encourage more bereaved families to have Father’s Day buffets, that are less full of awkward silences, and instead about celebration and laughter. Maybe not with horrible potato waffles from Iceland.

Jack Rooke: Good Grief debuts at the Underbelly, Cowgate (Delhi Belly) from 6-30 August. For tickets click here, for more information click here.