Grandpa had not been the same over the past few months his face looked tired and forlorn, he found it difficult remembering our faces at times and would sometimes shout out at Grandma for no good reason. He was poor on his feet and would slump into his arm chair staring at his tweed slippers twitching as if irritated by his own presence. Grandma would hang her head tiresomely. I wished I could help. I wished I could make Grandpa happy again.
I would often drop in and visit Grandma and Grandpa on my way home from school. Grandma was often pleased to see me and grateful for the company following a tiresome day with Grandpa. I longed for my old Grandpa back. The days of fun and laughter from the old war hero had faded. I recollected the times when I would collect the sweet smelling tobacco to fill his pipe and the smell of whiskey lingering on his breath as I sat upon his hearty lap. Now I found myself looking into the eyes of a stranger. I could no longer see an understanding face but more of a lost mind, corrupted and confused, it brought a tear to my eye to see this. Grandma would sit silently in the corner watching her once loved husband slip into the hands of a disease, locking up all of his emotions and closing off from the rest of the world.
Grandma had met Grandpa in the February of 1934, it was Valentine’s Day. Grandpa used to tell me the tale over and over again how he had met Grandma and how he had survived the war. He would describe Grandma as his lucky Valentine. He would explain how he had been walking past the village hall and a beautiful blonde, blue eyed young lady with lips like berries dashed a smile at him. She was arranging roses for the annual Valentine dance. He would explain to me how he didn’t have the courage to go back and ask her to the dance as his partner and also worried she would turn him down. That evening grandpa decided to go to the dance to see if his blue eyed girl would be there. She was there, in a beautiful scarlet dress, nevertheless, an opportunity never arose for them to speak. At the end of the evening grandpa said he plucked up the courage and left a single red rose on her seat while she was serving drinks. He could see her face light from a distance when she returned. She looked over to him and smiled; she walked across to him and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. From that day on he was enthralled by her beauty and dedicated every day of his life to her. His Valentine.
Where had those days gone for Grandma? , death would have been kinder, than the days that followed. Grandpa’s condition progressively became worse and he became very demanding he required more specialist help. Grandpa’s GP was more than helpful and explained to Grandma that the time was drawing near to say goodbye.
It was the morning of Valentine’s Day 2011 and as I walked down the bendy county lane which led to my Grandparent’s house, the shrill sound of an ambulance was drawing near. I stepped onto the bank and it flew past me at high speed. Its blue lights vividly flashing. I knew immediately it must be Grandpa, I started to run. I was out of breath. I wished and hoped it wasn’t for Grandpa. As I approached the cottage, there it was, an ambulance perched outside. The front door wide open. I dashed to the floor only to find Grandpa lay in front of the fire with a clear oxygen mask over his face and grandma crouched beside him holding dearly onto his hand as tears rolled down her cheek. My stomach turned and I felt helpless. In his hand he had a red rose clutched between his fingers
I stood there motionlessly to take in the moment. The paramedics were keen to move Grandpa in the ambulance. Just as he was lifted onto the long bleached stretcher, he lifted his hand to his mask and lifted it away from his face. He muttered the words;
“My valentine, goodbye” to grandma and pushed the rose into her frail hands. Grandma kissed his pale cheek.
He turned and smiled at me. He took a long sigh and drew his last breath into the cold air which had circulated the room from outside. He closed his tired eyes and fell into a deep sleep, never to awake. He was at peace now. Grandma fell into my arms and let out a high shrill, her valentine had gone forever. My eyes started to fill with water and my body became weightless. I knew I had to be strong for Grandma. The Paramedics took Grandpa away and the house felt strange, like a book missing from a collection.
Photographs were scattered around the room, telling a tale and memories would come flooding back which I would treasure forever.
As mother arrived she grabbed Grandma and held her tight, she was weak and the eerie linger of death fell upon the whole house.
As grandma sat in Grandpa’s chair she unclasped her hand and the crushed red rose fell onto her knees, she lifted the petals to her nose and smelt the delicate aroma, she smiled and said
“My Valentine”.
The End
