I don’t know how old I was.
I wasn’t old enough.
He had a Stroke.
The daftest, warmest man I knew.
The Stroke couldn’t kill him straight away, so it broke him instead. A man who had laboured his whole life, reduced to dribbling in a Nursing Home’s chair.
And where was I?
When he needed to cash in the chips of the unconditional love and support he had always given me, where was I?
I hadn’t coped. I couldn’t cope.
I distanced myself from him and all my grandparents. Discovering their mortality shocked me into hiding. I couldn’t risk feeling that pain again.
Years passed, and this world lost the four best people who ever walked upon it, but I barely noticed.
Even though I got older, I couldn’t let them back inside until it was far too late.
And now I miss him, I miss them all.
This is the pain that I cannot hide from.
Sorry Granddad. Sorry Grandpa. Sorry Nan. Sorry Granny B.
I love you.
The above is true, it wasn’t easy to write. Sometimes, I’ll try and push myself and dip into my emotions a little. I don’t do it often here at Glen’s Life, because I try to keep this place light and daft, but I do it elsewhere sometimes.
If you liked this, please could you go to http://wurdzl.com/a/69tA7Kk and either Facebook-Like, Google-Like, share, tweet or whatever you can be bothered to do? I think you have to login to do a W+, if you have a login or want to create one then a W+ would be lovely thanks.
I’m not sure what it says about me, that I’ll dip into my raw emotions just to try and win a Kindle – but there you are.