I’m sitting on a chair in our little room, in front of the desk. Actually, someone is holding me in his arms and I hear a deep soothing voice telling a story about a beautiful princess. Look! There’s that bad witch! She’s so ugly too… I slowly fall asleep listening and dream of beautiful things, charming princes and fairies…but it gradually becomes a nightmare and I see that same witch in the picture come alive and trying to grab me.
*
They wouldn’t let me play rummy. It’s not fair! I’m a big girl now! Everybody plays but me. They say I don’t know the game but it’s not true! I watched them do it. I just know I know. If they would only let me play! Once the game is over, grandpa lies on the bright yellow of the recamière. He seems upset. I go sit beside him and play with his big generous hands. He sighs. He alone knows I’m a grown up now. And he speaks to me accordingly. I ask him why he is so upset. He is leaning on his side and takes hold of my little hands. He says he has to go away. That he is sad because he won’t see his little princess go to school, grow up. Now I’m sad too. I tell him. ‘Then don’t go.’ He has to, he says. It’s not up to him to decide. I wish to add something more, beg him to stay, but he is tired and has fallen asleep. I try to forget what he said … I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. He can’t leave me.
*
Mum is buttoning up my newly knitted top-coat. I hate it. She knows I do. But I soon forget about that. We’re going to see grandpa. I haven’t seen him in a while. We reach a tall building and climb many stairs. We have some food for grandpa. I’m afraid. Mum says he is ill so I must behave if only for his sake. I miss him. Plus, I can’t wait to take that damn ugly coat off. I don’t know how we ended up here, but what an ugly place! Ugly old men in dirty clothes. It’s hard to breathe. I stay close to mum and stare at all those men. They must be ill too. Most are in their night clothes and have strange looks upon their faces. Finally, a smaller room. The last bed, near the window. There he is they say to me. But he is asleep. And he doesn’t look like my grandpa. That’s because he is so ill, mum says. She talks about him with a nurse. I can’t understand much. Only that he had an accident in there and he is worse. Lost blood and cannot move out of bed. We leave our little parcel for him and go back home.
*
He left me. I’ll never forgive him that. I wasn’t here when he went away. I spent that holiday with my other granny. We didn’t even say goodbye. Nobody asked me for my permission. To those who ask me, I say without hesitation ‘So what if he died? I don’t care.’
Note: Grandpa died in 1988, two days before Easter. I was almost five years old. These crumbs are all I have left of him.