Category : Stories

Sub Category : YoungAdult

Today marks the day tragedy struck.

Twenty one years ago I bid farewell to family and friends before boarding a coach with my mother, ready to embark on my adventure. 

My gran hugged me, tears in her eyes as she recited the list of tips to stay safe, telling me to write to her often and tell her what the strange new land I was going to was like.

My uncle gave me a hug too, telling me to keep safe and visit them all sometime. He seemed happy, yet I could tell that he was hiding his sadness behind a smile.

Finally I reached my great-grandmother. She too wept while she smiled and wished me a safe journey. The spring wind tossed her white and silver hair around playfully, tickling my nose when she pulled me in for a hug.

For a woman who seemed frail with age, her embrace was firm for despite her years she was as strong as she had ever been. The light of a much younger woman, filled with vitality shone from her eyes. 

She had always been an icon of strength. If I was ever in doubt all I had to do was ask her and she would always have an answer. 

Goodbyes said, I boarded the coach waving a hyped farewell to my relatives not realizing what was going to happen in my future. I was a happy six year old going on an adventure to what I had thought of as a far away land. 

Two days later I got off the coach in the UK. Little did I know I had gone from a life of happiness to ten years of increasing abuse and hell. 

All those years I had held on to the memory of my great-grandmother,  the words she had spoken to me and the strength I remembered she had. 

I got to see her a couple of times growing up; she had always welcomed me back with open arms, making a huge fuss over how much I had grown.

When i saw her at the tender age of sixteen she had moved out of her flat, and moved to a nursing home in the mountains. Even then she had the strength to make a fuss over me and my brother, she had been so happy to see us.

She showed us around, introduced us to her friends and seemed as healthy as ever. Her smile outshined the Sun itself.

That was the last time I ever saw her.

My hell got worse but we got away from it eventually. I ended up in a bad relationship, one I ended swiftly and moved on with my life, determined to make it better.

I met my partner and had two girls. We don't have much but we manage, I started making a career by writing books, even manages to publish one. It seemed my hell was over, or so I thought.

Word reached me of my great-grandmother.  She had taken ill. I had no passport, no money to get a new one or phone her. For years I heard of how she was getting worse, her mind was wandering, her memories fading.

She lingered surrounded by people she no longer remembered, but I wasn't there.  I couldn't go to see her. She suffered falls, broke bones. I still couldn't afford to fly back and see her. 

A couple of months ago I was told she was dying. I saved every penny trying to scrape enough for a ticket over there but try as I did, I had nowhere near enough to purchase a ticket.

Today I got a message from my mother. My great grandmother had died at 2am. No money to fly over for the funeral. 

I will never get to bid her farewell. I will never be able to tell her of all I had achieved so far, my kids will never get to meet her now.

She was the best, and will never be forgotten.