The Hard Times, part 1
Dear Diary, August 7, 2012
So I’m writing this today but it’s about a long time ago. When I was ind off a newborn, maximum 1 year old, I went to visit my grandparents in Greece. They live there and they wanted to meet me off course. So my family and I went and I met my grandparents. When it was lunch time my grandfather took a drop of his wine, he had a giant obsession with wine, and gave it to me. He was expecting for me to reject it just like my brothers and cousins but I didn’t i liked it, and still like it. When he saw that I liked it he gave a drop to me every meal and said: ‘I can die in peace knowing one of my granddaughters shares my passion with wine. Some time later… he died.
Now every year I go to Greece, I go to my grandmothers garden and look for the tree that has his name (his body was cremated and they planted it with tree seeds.) and sit there. I just sit there not talking just sitting or sometimes singing. It is wonderful to feel him. I never really met him like I don’t remember him but 2 years ago I found a photo of him and I keep it in my room just to see it when I want. The thing is, I really miss him. When I was in the ‘nobody loves me’ face I missed him and my mom’s mom, but I’ll talk about that next time. Anyways, my grandfather meant a lot to me just because of the fact that I meant a lot to him. I was the last grandchild he met. He left behind sons, daughters, grandchildren, a great granddaughter and an old wife that left her home and is now voluntarily living at a retirement house because everything in her life is not pink color.
Do you have a similar story? or whatever you want to tell or ask me: email@example.com
kis, Secret Keeper.