Grief Or Grandad

In my last story I submitted I explained my user name. My grandad was part of that story but I believe that he deserves his own.

My parents divorced when I was four and my mum being a single mother was out working a lot trying to feed and clothe us and pay the bills. My nan and grandad looked after us a lot during holidays as they only lived at the bottom of the road. My grandad was and is my hero he taught me how to tell the time, play chess, yahtzee and spent time with me there are other numerous small things that all add up to him being a terrific grandad.

When I was 16 it was a very bad year I lost both my paternal grandparents (Grace and Albert) and my maternal grandad (Alfred) and later in the year my older brother had a very serious bike accident which left him in a coma in hospital for a few weeks. This story is about what I experienced when my maternal grandad died.

I had always gone to my nan and grandads for my lunch and this day my grandad had been in bed when I had gone round. Not knowing anything was wrong I went off to school to finish my day. Upon returning home I was met by my distraught mum telling me that Grandad (Alfred) had passed away that afternoon. He had cancer of the throat and had been given 3 months he made 3 weeks.

Strangely I did not cry but just comforted my mum. I have identical older twin brothers who were not the nicest of siblings growing up and they took exception to my lack of tears calling me uncaring and selfish and generally being spiteful, I know this was due to their own grief but at the time I did not need this as I adored my grandad so I walked out.

We lived in the last house on the last street in town and I wandered without any plan or conscious route for some time (I could not tell you how long for). Suddenly I realised that I was walking towards my nan and grandads bungalow. My Nan had been taken to my Uncles house as the end was horrible and she had had to cope on her own.

As I approached the bungalow I got to thinking how I had not said I love you to my grandad that afternoon and now it was too late. I looked up and he was there stood in the garden wearing his jacket and cap with the streetlight glinting off of his glasses. I walked up to him told him I loved him and he smiled lovingly at me, and I walked off.

To this day I don't know whether I saw his spirit or my mind was playing tricks on me in my grief as I don't know why I did not stop, try to touch him or even get him to speak to me. If I think back the feeling I got was that I had been allowed to deliver my message to him and nothing else needed to be said.