I’ll miss you.

Even though I didn’t see you much, and when I did you stayed in bed, especially toward the end.
I enjoyed those visits.
Bringing you leftover cake and smiling as you waved it away.
I’d come back later and half of it would be gone.
You had taken tiny pinches and pushed them through your lips, slowly and without thought.

When I was smaller,
I thought you were invincible.
My golfing granddad – because you did love golf, and I loved the mini version.
Whenever I drew my family, you were at the head, dressed in plaid leaning casually on a golf club.

I wish you were here.
Mum is lying on her bed in the dark, silently sobbing.
I’m still numb.
It doesn’t feel real.
I tried to push the tears out and a few dropped forward, but they were salty.
No love in my tears.

What happened?
You – so strong.
You’d to lift me up onto your back, and I would breathe you in – that familiar musky odour.
You got weak – you got cancer.
It was all too clear but I never saw it coming.

I’ll miss you, my sweet old granddad.