He never shaved by Robin

My granddad used to tell me I was his favourite. Some years ago his health deteriorated quite badly. I visited him now and again. The last time I saw him, I remember, I was there with my dad and my aunt. He was a bit of a grumpy man. When we went to leave and said bye, we walked out but I’d forgotten my scarf. So I ran back in, got a grumpy remark from my Opa, picked up the scarf and I hesitated. I’d wanted to give him a kiss or a hug, I remember. But I didn’t. Even in the car I was still hesitating, but we drove off. We drove off. Only, days later he died. I still feel the feeling I had of pause, of hesitation after I grabbed my scarf. I still can’t accept the why I didn’t just act, because I knew. I knew it was the last time.
My granddad carried a big beard, for as long as I can remember. My grandmother had always hated the beard. But he never shaved it. My grandmother died ten years before he did. When he died, in his bed, he was without beard. He had shaved all of it off before he had gone to sleep.

Specifications:

Story by: Robin
Illustration by: Studio Ravivo
Dimensions: H 10 cm x ø 9 cm
Color: Grey