I miss you lots and lots and lots. I remember how you used to call me pretty and tell me stories of your wild childhood. If only you could tell me those stories now. I can hear your whisper sometimes, I can hear your heart beating next to mine, in unison as one. I can feel your warmth in your arm chair as if you've just sat there and I've run over to the seat because I know it will be warm. The fire blows and crackles like your using the poker on it and blowing it gently.
Just saying grandad that I love you.
:'(
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