@jasmineday6691

1 year ago

I lost my granddad when I was 7, back in 2011. I miss him, so fucking much. I'm now 18, but I still think about him occasionally. I am at uni and above my bed, I have a notice board, near to where my head is, I have a picture of me and him on a chair, as he has his arm around me. I am smiling widely and my granddad is just smiling, happy. I have another picture that, for some reason speaks to me, it's a picture of me as a young child, using one of my toy hairbrushes (for like Barbie's or something) and I am brushing his thinning hair, whilst he's looking up at the brush. It's pictures like that, that make me think of the good times I had with grandad. I kind of saw my grandad as more of a fatherly figure than my own dad, I'd often go up to him asking for a hug. He made a cot for me, which i still have, no matter how old I get, I'm never throwing it away, my granddad made it. He was a crafty man, he never gave up. If something didn't work how he wanted it, he'd go away, maybe have a tea or a drink or something, think of a better way to fix something. He was and I suppose still is my role model. I remember the days leading up to his death in 2011, he would be growing frail, he never had a cane, as far as I can remember. My family and I would visit him at our grandparents, whenever we could. I still remember one day, I was happily running around the house, until I stopped at the living room, mottled door, I looked up through the door, my grandad was sat in a chair as my grandma sat on the arm of the chair he was sat in. She had a bowl and a flannel and was washing his face. (Omg these memories are actually making me sob). I was just thinking "is he ok?". There was an odd sense in the air, I went into the other part of the living room, everyone was quiet and on their phones, I was so confused. The day came when we had to leave the house that weekend, I sat in the car on the way home, just thinking of my grandad. A few weeks/months went past, we'd visit them at their house over and over again. Another month passed, around November 2011 if I'm correct, he was put into hospital for lung cancer. I was still young, 7. We found his room, there he was, sat in bed, covers over him, he was excited to see us. He was flicking through the tv guide above his bed. "How do we get this to work?" he said. I remember that. We showed him how it worked. He lay there watching TV for a while, until he grew tired and decided to take a nap. We all decided it was best we left my grandma and grandad alone, for time they had left with each other. We went home. That was the last time I ever saw him. My dad went to his dad's funeral, us children and our mum decided not to go. My dad came back, black suit and a navy tie I seem to remember. He dropped his suitcase down and just collapsed at our door, he was too broken. His eyes, puffy/baggy and red. For the first time, I knew my dad had been crying. He got me and my brother toys. I appriciated this gesture, but nothing could heal the pain of knowing whenever I go back, he's not there anymore and it will just be my grandma. It's now 2023, my grandma is doing well.

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