I've been asking myself: what's the point in living? My grandad almost became 90. Today he was cremated. He lived, took very good care of me as a kid (caravan travels to luxembourg, feeding me these funny 8-shaped, pudding filled pastries , baking the best chips in the whole world, doing our garden after my dad had left us, liking his alcoholic snaps once in a while) always being very cheery and happy when i saw him... but at the same time he wasn't happy. Cheated on my gran a couple of times but stayed with her and paid his debts... From that time onwards, they fought, all the time... It's a shame, they both could haven been so happy... But weren't...
I once promised him, as a little girl, that i would one day have a son to continue our familyname. And 25 years later, i do have a son (who he, for the few times that i visited during the past year, loved to bits...) and he has my name, so the family tree continues. I've never been proud of my last name, but today i was. Weirder things have happened...
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2 comments:
the point of living is the little bundle of joy that wakes you up every morning with a smile and nothing but unconditional love in his eyes for you.....and dont you ever forget it
I know that sugar. He's my life and so much more. But in fact i just wanted to think about the point in my grandad's life. Especially at the last thirty years of it.
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