In Memory of Gramps

This is a thing that has been on my mind for a long time now, and it wasn’t until just recently that I worked up enough strength to write it. It started with a writing prompt about what do I remember about growing up, and then adding onto that was the question my girlfriend asked me while we were on the phone the other night; “What’s the one thing you want the most right now?”

I replied saying, “I can’t tell you the truth, but you’re the most important to me.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I can’t bring myself to say it.”

I didn't tell her on the phone that night, but texted her it to her afterwards. The one thing I wanted the most, was to have my grandfather back again, at least to say goodbye to.

I remember when I was younger, before I could ride my bicycle all over the county by myself. Those were the times which my grandfather, or as I knew him Gramps, would pick up my brother and me every weekend and take us out. My father, John, who now in life I refer to by first name, out of lack of a respect and the hatred I feel towards him. At home he constantly chose favorites between the two of us, spending time with either one or the other, but rarely both of us at the same time.

I plan to write more and extend this piece quite a bit longer, however this is the start of it, and one of the things that remains in my mind every day.