The first memory of my grandfather was when I was around seven or eight, I was playing cards with my grandmother and he jokingly asked: "You don't like playing cards then I see?" And he laughed, as did I.
I am told that from the day I was born, although he was not my grandfather by blood (My real grandfather died seventeen years before I was born), that I was the apple of his eye, I would never leave his side as a toddler, I would go and watch the airplane shows with him, snuck out to take walks along the beach for hours, and my fondest memory: helping him tend to his garden and feed his birds.
I recall that one day I was in his bird shed, feeding the birds with my grandfather, when he told me to come over, he had a huge grin on his face, he was almost about to burst with excitement. One of the birds had payed two eggs and two little baby birds were chirping in the cage. Looking back at this moment, it seems like I stared at them forever...
My grandfather proceeded to feed the little baby birds couscous (sort of like rice) and we then went inside for dinner.
Two years and five days ago, my grandfather unfortunately fell ill with lung cancer, he luckily beat this, only to suffer a stroke a few days later. I didn't wish to see him in hospital as I thought I would break down.
My mother and grandmother went to see him one day, while they were gone I promised myself I would go to see him the next day...
I never got the chance. He passed away while my mother and grandmother said their goodbyes.
I never got to say goodbye or 'I love you' one last time, this I have regretted every day since his death. I have written this to help to try and put my mind at peace.
Goodbye, Grandad, rest in peace my angel.