I’m short because of my grandfather
but I forget more than I remember that it’s him I’ve taken after.
To me he was a shadow painted into family portraits.
Only half real in any memory I still have of him and I together.
But that’s the danger of not knowing anything about a person
besides the fact they’re sick.
You have to wait for photos after the funeral once the sorting has begun.
Then you find the questions that you should have asked
burning behind your mouth without the person you want the most
anywhere to be found.
Today’s daily prompt Grainy reminded me of this old photo of my Grandfather and his friend from when they toured around France on their bikes. My uncle had it restored after it was rediscovered a little while after my Grandfather passed away. It was one of the first stories I heard that made me realise I’d never asked him about his youth or even his life before I was born.
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Published by Carol J Forrester
Carol J Forrester is a writer and a history geek. Her debut collection 'It's All In The Blood' came out November 2019.
She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University, enjoys judo at least twice a week, and tries to attend poetry events around the Midlands when she can.
Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry. Her poems ‘Sunsets’ and ‘Clear Out‘ were featured on Eyes Plus Words, and two of her poems were included in the DVerse Poets Pub Publication ‘Chiaroscuro’ which is available for purchase on amazon.Her poem ‘Until The Light Gets In‘ was accepted and published at The Drabble and her poem ‘Newborn’ was published by Ink Sweat & Tears.
She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and has hosted a number of guest bloggers on her site Writing and Works.
View all posts by Carol J Forrester
Writing and Works 
I can really relate to this. I lost all my grandparents early, and I barely knew them. I have just a few stories about my grandfather to put his personality together, but he is still very mysterious to me.
This poem really struck a cord with me. When you’re young you never think about these things and too soon people are gone. My nan died of cancer when I was 11 and I often think of how I miss getting to know her as a adult, learning about her as a person not just ‘nan’. Great poem.