I just realised, Grandad, that it's a whole month since we said goodbye. 2nd of May, and now it's the 2nd of June. The month has passed so quickly. Where did it go? Where did the time run to?
I spent yesterday in your garden, helping Grandma do the gardening. Actually, Dad was doing more than me. I was outside, using shears to cut all the grass along the side of the lane. There were nettles there, too. Grandma said she was worried that the children would sting themselves on them, so we took them away.
It was hard work but it looked so nice afterwards. The fountain isn't there any more, though. Your fountain. I always called it 'Grandad's Fountain', but you never knew that because I never said. There were a lot of things I never said.
We had a beautiful hot day today. It was lovely. I went cycling, and then I sunbathed in the garden. Now I'm inside again, writing you a letter. But I can see the garden from my window and the forget-me-nots are out in bloom.
I haven't forgotten you, you know. Even when I'm laughing at my bizarre dreams and stories--collaboratives especially--or hanging out with friends, I haven't forgotten you. They only have to mention your name for me to burst into tears, though I'm trying to keep a check on it.
But I have to carry on. You know that, don't you? And writing isn't really helping. Every time I write a letter it's me taking a step in the wrong direction to letting go.
Maybe I don't want to let go.