Withered

The scent of smoke

Its presence lingered in your room

That scent reminds me of you

The moments I had left with you

Your raspy voice from the ages of smoking you did.

I didn’t know your time was limited

I didn’t know I wouldn’t have you around forever

I remember you, smiling and laughing at my made up stories

Did you know that I made them up?

We would watch family shows together and laugh.

After we finished watching them, you always wanted to admire the plants in your garden.

You would always struggle to get up but at the end you would just smile at me like everything was okay.

You would slowly make your way to the sliding doors while I followed closely behind you.

You would always ask me to help open the doors and I did it happily.

You would sit down with a coffee and admire the greenery.

I wondered if that rubbed off on me..

Is that why I love flowers?

Because they remind me of you?

You would always tell me about every plant in your garden.

And I would enjoy it, but my little six year old brain didn’t understand any of it.

But I enjoyed talking to you.

When I had to go, you always placed a kiss on my cheek and wished me well.

I stopped going to your house when I started to grow up.

And then you withered away.

I cried that day like a part of me just withered away.

I felt like I lost a piece of me that day.

I always cry when I think about you.

Even now, I still cry.

I love you grandpa.

Yet I feel like I’m to late to say that.