Tag: family

The letter you hope you never have to read if your a child: but perhaps we should all write one.

A small section taken from ‘Don’t Ever Forget Me’ It’s a story I wrote about an eleven-year-old girl, who’s grandad dies, but leaves her a cardboard box inside a metal safe. The contents make her cry.

A large cardboard box nestled inside the safe. It was quite heavy, and it took all my strength to lift it onto the worktop directly under the window. I moved my stool closer and raised the lid, not quite knowing what to expect. There was nothing nasty in there, but I still cried. It was full of all the things that I had ever drawn and made. Right from when I was a tiny baby. He had saved even the smallest piece of paper from the first time that I had scribbled with a crayon and the first time that I attempted to spell the word grandad.

As I worked my way to the bottom, my hand touched a large brown envelope. I pulled it out, and there on the front in small, neat letters were five words.

They read. ‘To Rebecca, love from Grandad,’ and I knew what was inside.

Mom found me a long time later, sitting there with the envelope in my hand, still unopened. She took it from me, read the words on the front, and burst into tears, and we put our arms around each other. He was very thoughtful and knew that this day would come. It was his way of saying goodbye.

I opened it much later that night when I was on my own.

Inside was a single piece of A4 paper.

The writing was very neat, so I knew that he must have spent a lot of time and patience writing it. Years spent working in a factory had taken their toll, and despite my poor attempts to convince him otherwise, his hands were in a bad shape.

The few years of retirement had allowed the scars to soften, but they would never heal, and he so resented being clumsy.

The letter read.

‘My dearest Rebecca, I am so sorry that you are reading this letter. I know that I am unable to be with you in person, and I am so sorry for the hurt that you are feeling. But I don’t want you to feel like that.

We have had so many good times. Try to remember them as you grow older, but please don’t grieve for me. Grief will not help you or me, and more than anything, I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy your life.

Just remember this. I have loved you so much and have seen you grow from a tiny baby into a beautiful young girl. Maybe someday, when you’re older, you will understand the pleasure that I have got from being your grandad. Rebecca, although I can’t be with you anymore, I will always be part of you, and If nothing else, remember one thing.

It has been a privilege to have you as my granddaughter.

I have loved you and will love you forever.

Grandad,’ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  

It’s twelve months since grandad died, and it still hurts.

Forty Five

My first unfinished attempt at songwriting; just need to add a melody

                                                                    Forty Five

I watched as they danced together and wished it was me but they were just kids and didn’t deserve my jealousy. 

How I wanted him to look at me, the way he looked at her, I wouldn’t expect it right away that wouldn’t be fair but if she knew how much I was part of him perhaps we could share.

I didn’t realize it then but the world was about to change, you didn’t add them up or take them away but those two numbers four and five were here to stay.  The mini dress and jeans were just the start as black and white suddenly became colour and spread across the world changing the perception of boys and girls.

 Presidents got younger, shooting stars were bright, torches shone farther late at night. Parents felt threatened, their kids knew more, they watched in horror as the teenagers moonwalked across the floor.

There was a click and I started to spin round, that’s when I became part of that pulsing sound, part of the bare feet slapping on the ground, part of the guard at the door, part of the music that would never grow old.

Every generation thinks they know more than the one that came before, it’s not something new, it’s always been that way, when teenagers become men they only think about the pay, girls become women and stop taking a chance, most only dance with their husbands, they stop looking for romance.  

The world is always changing it never stays the same.

Just a few months later I heard Eddy had died and even though many years have passed, the tears haven’t dried, I grieve that he left us so young without finishing the prose and notes in his head but eventually realized you can’t if you’re dead.

Not so many people listen to me now because most have forgotten about him, but like me he will never get old and sometime in the future if you listen carefully, you may hear that pulsing sound, become part of the bare feet slapping on the ground, part of the guard at the door, part of the music that will never grow old.    

If you press play I still start to cry because the music’s still the same despite so many years passing by.

You may not find me if you stream but those numbers four and five are still there, if you want to dream.