The purpose of this paper is to give an in depth true autobiographical story of a very painful time in my life, when my beloved grandfather passed away. This had a great impact on me, and during the course of the story, I go in to details of the various ways that it affected me.
I was 12 years old at the time that my dear grandfather suffered his first stroke. I did not really understand what a stroke actually meant, but after he suffered two more over the following year, I certainly got to see the devastating consequences.
John, a wonderful white haired man with a ruddy complexion and kind blue eyes, was not just my grandfather, he was also my favorite family member. Right from a small child, I was closer to him than I was to my parents or any one else from my family. Grandad, as I always called him, was a very important part of my life. He was full of love and generosity of spirit.
Grandad was always elderly, even when I was small, and he was much older than my grandmother. He was also a war hero, and had a permanent knee injury, which I now realize must have been difficult for him, as he needed a wooden walking stick. The rubber heels of his black brogue leather lace up shoes were also very uneven, and that means that he must have had a weight imbalance between his two feet.
He was the kind of person who liked to relax and take life easy. He was never loud, and never made any kinds of demands. Due to his slowly failing health, and being in his 70s and 80s at the time that I knew him, he was confined to the house most of the time. He did however, take regular walks down to the local sweet shop, and whenever I went around to his house, he would tell me to go to the antique walnut cupboard in the hall, to get a bag of sweets from his raincoat pocket. He would get me all kinds of delicious sweets, and big bags of marshmallows. He would also buy me great writing pens, special pens that I really loved. Thanks to grandad, I was supported at school, and even though he was a pensioner, he payed for my weekly sports lessons. He also taught me how to play the clarinet, as he had been a member of a famous orchestra in his younger days. I had many happy days with my grandad. After his final stroke, I went to the hospital, and could not control the tears rolling down my face. He passed away the next day.
My grandfather showed me kindness, and now that I am older, I realize that kindness is one of life’s greatest values. And it is this aspect of my childhood that I will always remember. Even though I was very upset, I did not immediately react to his death in a dramatic way, yet subconsciously, I was traumatized.
Later on, I do not remember how many months later, I lost my mental balance, and started behaving in an erratic way and getting into trouble. This was very unlike me, and now that I am older, I put it down to instability. I would never have done these things if I had still been spending time with my grandad. With him I had security and peace, something that was lost when I lost him. It took me a long time to get over the trauma of his death and my catastrophic loss of love and support. Now that time has move on, my goal is to make him proud.