9th May, Sunday

I don't have long to write this, Grandad, but I don't want to hurry it either. It's only half past nine and I have to go and have breakfast before church today. So I'll just talk quickly, and then I'll go. Perhaps I'll write some more later.

I wonder what you would be thinking if you were to go to your own funeral. I'll probably be wondering that all day on Tuesday when we're there, because I can't help feeling it would be extremely strange. Can you imagine that, Grandad? Going to a funeral and it being your own? I can. It would freak me out.

Were you afraid of dying? Mum said to me that you thought you'd a good life, a long life: you'd had your chance. I wonder. I sometimes think that no life is long enough, or that all lives are too long. Were you afraid, Grandad? I don't want you to be scared. I hope you didn't lie there with the time approaching and know that there was nothing you could do.

I hope you could hear Mum as she talked to you. She told you about us all. She spoke of my sister, who went to a show you recommended. I hope you heard that bit. Bella cried so much. She said she thought about you the whole way through the show. 

She told you about me, too. About the book I wrote. We were desperately trying to get it finished for you but didn't quite make it. I'm sorry, Grandad. But I won't dwell on the past. I'm going to celebrate the life you've had, not the life you could have had.

I've noticed that when I'm writing to you I always sound younger. Like a small child. I can picture that little girl, the girl I used to be, wearing one of those awful dresses I used to love, looking up at someone older, someone wiser. I have a beautiful photo of us sitting on a bench together when I was about one. It's so sweet, Grandad.

I think I sound younger because I always felt young when I was talking to you. You're so much older; you've seen so much and you know so much. I think I could safely count you as 'wise'.

Anyway, Grandad, I'll tell you my news later. I have to go now. I'm sorry! But I'll talk later, I promise. I need to write Grandma a letter too...a real one, I mean, that I'll actually post. I hope you don't mind this letter not being very interesting. I thought you might just like some post.


The End

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