I was twelve years old when I learnt about death and loss first hand. My beloved Grandad had died. He was my mums dad and he meant the world to me, as he always made the time to play with me. Stars in their eyes was my favourite. Like in the programme, we would attempt to dress up like the singer we would impersonate and make a greater attempt to sing. My grandad, my mum, my brothers and myself would always have so much fun. I remember the day i got told he has left us like it was yesterday.
It was about seven o'clock in the evening, not a cloud in the sky, still quite light out, all by friends playing in the street but i wasn't as i had broke my wrist 2 days prior. My dad came home from work. I knew something was wrong as my dad works night shift and had only left us not 3 hours ago. I didn't ask him though, instead i decided to go and ask my brother. As i was walking to my brothers room, i heard my mum and dad whispering, my mum was upset and my dad was consoling her. My brother didn't know what was going on either but just told me not to worry about it. My brother and i were playing a game on his playstation when my mum and dad came in the room about 1 hour later. They told us we were all going to my Uncle Davids house, where all my aunts, cousins and uncles would be. I was so excited. I couldn't wait to see everyone. As i was listing everyone of from, aunt to aunt, cousin to cousin, uncle to uncle, i mentioned grandad. My parents exchanged between them a look of dread that I still remember to this day. My little heart skipped a beat. I know something was wrong. When we arrived everyone was silent, as though someone had hit the mute button of a remote on my entire family. It felt like a movie. Cold, lifeless, empty.
It never really sunk in at first. It wasn't until about 2 days later i relised that i would never see my grandad again. The tears came like Niagara Falls. I stayed in my room for what seemed like days, wailing and sobbing...