My Grandad

A walking stick without it's owner, reading glasses with a fingerprint on their lense. Letters in that beautiful calligraphic handwriting, your face smiling at me in photographs. The buzz of relatives voices on the phone, the brochure on the side about bereavement and funeral directors and knowing this is real. Looking back on those memories of going fishing and learning to ride a bike, all of them thanks to my grandad. I will miss you.