When I was 14, my grandfather died. He was my favourite grandparent. I have never quite been able to get over that loss at such a young age, rather choosing to push everything related to that to some deep inaccessible corner of my mind. I was at an age where I was just starting to create memories that I would be able to remember. I still wish that he were around today so that I would have had many more memories than the precious few I am forced to desperately cling on to. And as time passes, there arises the danger of memories of events that never happened being created, in other words, falsified memories. Memories are the only means by which I can hold on my Thatha, even though I let him go peacefully nearly 8 years ago. I don't want them lying to me.
I love you Thatha, and I miss you terribly. I only hope that I have turned out as the good grandson you loved. I want you to be proud of me.