When I was eighteen I went away to work for the summer in London. I was working on the rods doing traffic management. I was away for the summer, made decent money and had a good time.
I came back on the 31st of July that summer I was meant to come back on the 30th but one of the guys coming down missed his flight so I stayed for a day extra.
I came back on home on a Wednesday afternoon and my mum came home to see me after work instead of going up to the hospital to see my grandad who had been in there for a few weeks.
After seeing me she went up to the hospital to see him, but she had missed him.
He had died half an hour beforehand. If my mum hadn’t come home to see me she would have gotten to say goodbye to her dad before he died.
This year that will have been sixteen years ago and to this day I still feel guilty about it.
I am the reason my mum never got to say goodbye to her dad. I know this is a stupid thing to feel guilty about, but I do. I have been told countless times by my mum that I shouldn’t, but I do, I can’t help it.
Even a few years ago when I was seeing a therapist I told her this and was told that there is no reason for me to feel this way, but I can’t help it. I do.
Now you are probably wondering why I am writing this and posting it here on my blog, and you’d be well within your right to wonder why.
It is something that has been on my mind a fair bit today (Aside from seeing the Avengers: Infinity War – which was epic) I’ve been thinking about that a fair bit today because of a dream I had last night.
Before I go on I should mention that my granny died about six years ago.
It was rather a strange dream, I was in their house, but it was larger than it actually is, the whole family was there, including my little monster, she was running about like a lunatic as per usual. What was bizarre about this (apart from the whole thing) was that my grandad was alive and well, exactly how I remember him and he was playing with my daughter, something that obviously will never happen, while upstairs there were doctors wheeling out my granny who had just died (again she died six years ago, ten years after my grandad) they started wheeling out a hospital bed and oxygen tanks.
We stood in the kitchen with my mum, my grandad and the little one and everyone else, just standing there talking as they did this, but, I was at the same time getting an up-close view of everything that else that was going on. It was as if I were in two places at once.
Just then I got woken up.
There was a lot more going on than I have said, mostly because I can’t remember the rest. It has been fading as the day goes on.
But there is one thing that I can’t shake. It was the last image I saw just before I was woken up.
My grandad standing in his kitchen holding my daughter as she played with his nose and the smile he had on his face.
This is something that I hope I don’t forget and I wish I could get a picture of it in the real world, print it out and give it to my mum, but…
I have no idea why I had this dream last night/this morning, but it has stuck with me all day and I don’t know what to do about it.
My grandad was a huge part of my life growing up, he used to take care of us after school when my mum was working and he used to take me fishing down the river.
So, I thought I’d write it down.
That’s pretty much all I have I have just now.
[note: the header picture is me and my grandad on what I think is my fifth birthday]