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Rated: E · Fiction · Emotional · #2081892
The Writer's Cramp due 4-21 577 Words
“If you don’t take chances, “ said the man in the striped pajamas, “you might as well not be alive.”

* * *

That was the last day my grandfather had been alive. His last sentence was to me. To help and guide me in this crazy everyday thing called life.
My grandpa was not an average man. He was strong, bold, sarcastic, loving, intelligent, brave and courageous. He would never let anything hurt my family or I no matter the consequences. He was one of the most genuine guys you would ever meet. Always giving the sly yet intelligent comments at the perfect time.
Ever since the day I was born, he called me his little muffin. We would run around the yard yelling at each other and playing tag while Grandma would stare at us from the kitchen window with a small smile on her face. He would even reward me with a piggy back ride before it was time to go inside and eat dinner with Grandma.
Whenever I stayed the night at my grandparents’ house, I would sleep on the little love seat and watch a movie to fall asleep. He would grab all of the blankets they had to cover me up tight so the bed bugs wouldn’t bite. When I had a nightmare, I would simply go to his and my grandma’s bedroom, just down the tiny hallway. I would climb up and poke at my grandpa’s wrinkled face and he would just pick me up from the floor and lay me between him and Grandma.
My grandmother was a sweet woman. She was quiet and caring with golden curly hair that every grandma was said to have. She would bake cookies, play card games and just have fun with me. My grandparents were the only family I really had. My parents always got into fights so I would quietly slip out of the house and walk just a few miles to get to theirs. They would allow me to come over to talk about it and stay the night just like when I was young.
As I grew older, my bond with my grandparents only strengthened. Grandpa helped me with my sports and my homework. And grandma would still bake those delicious oatmeal raisin cookies that she was so good at making. They both would give me advice on what to do about school, boys, sports and anything that I needed to talk about.
When my grandpa died, everything came down. I was as lost as ever and my grandma didn’t know what to do without him. He was the handyman and the sweetheart. Everyday I went over to my grandmother’s to see if she needed assistance and if I could help her out with anything she needed. The only thing she would say that she needed was, “Him.” I’d just nod and cry with her until we could not possibly cry any more.
It has been three years to this very day that my grandfather passed away. Grandma didn’t last very long afterwards, about a year. She couldn’t stand the broken heart. Now that they are both gone, I realize how lucky I was to have them. My mother never met her grandparents. I had and I knew that it was one of the best bonds with any person I would or could ever make. They were the reason that I am the great person I am today, thank you Grandpa and Grandma.
© Copyright 2016 Marie Smith (hoagaut0 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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