I won’t be here tomorrow so I thought that I would write the post now.  This is very personal, but I want to share it with you.

Tomorrow is the 14th of April.  The day that my grandfather died, 8 years ago.  He was a farmer, a hard worker, a real nice man.  He always called me his “maatjie” (friend).  I was the only girl among the other cousins, usually, and the guys never wanted me to do anything with them.  So good old grandad always took me with when they went fishing.  And when something bites his line he always let me bring it in.  It was my fish.  I was so proud.

Then one day he got sick, his condition only worsened when we saw him again.  It was sheer agony to see him slip away.  He was took up in hospital.  They nursed him well, but still he was deteriorating.  Getting ever more ill.  I will never forget that night.  My mom called me and my brother to the same room and announced that he drew his last breath…

Now this was my “maatjie” that my mom was talking about.  I remember going to my room, hugging my favourite teddy, crying and praying.  Asking God why he took my “maatjie” away.  Never got my answer, just know that He had a reason.

I took a trip down memory lane with a photo album tonight.  It was excruciating to see him on a photo and to know that I’m never going to get the chance again to get to hug him and tell him that I love him…