Grief

on saturday last week, my oupa, mike bartman, died. he was 77 years old. we didnt expect him to die, but he did. we were picking my aunts shell and bron up from the airport, when the hospital phoned my mom and told her that oupas breathing wasnt good. we rushed to the hospital, and mom, bron and shell went in to see him. mom said he looked really bad, and she didnt want us to remember him that way. so morgy, gordon, hannah (my cousin from england who came with bron) and i went down to the cafe to buy milkshakes with the money mom gave us, and to wait. half an hour later, oupa just stopped breathing and died. bron and shell took it really hard, this had been the only time they saw him. we were all upset. mom phoned mike, who got a plane ticket, and came down that night with his wife and daughter. it didnt really sink in for me that oupa was dead till last night. i never got to say goodbye. i never told oupa how much i loved him. dad says he knew. i can only pray that he did. oupa wasnt like other grandparents. he was never very affectionate. he never really hugged me, or told me that he loved me. he did buy us shoes though. and nice things on our birthdays. he used to have his classical music blaring at night, when he was all tucked in and stuff, before he went to bed. he practiced medicine up till a few weeks before he died. i remember he always used to do his crosswords in his chair in the morning, while we kids ate breakfast. he had his nicknames for us: frankie (morgy) ukkel (me) and rastus (gordon). and no one else will call me that again. i loved my oupa, and he loved us although he never told us. i miss him, and wish i told him the last day i saw him how much i do love him. the last words i said to my oupa were "i'll see you next week then". but i never did. i wish so much, that i said more. but i didnt. and well, i cant change what happened.