Memories carry on.

I always knew that death would come to everyone eventually, but it does not matter how much you prepare or see it coming.

It never fails to make you feel completely out of control.

Like your heart is made of glass and someone just ripped it out of your chest, dropped it on the floor as you watch it shatter, then attempt to glue the pieces together again in the vain hope that you will get over it and be the same again. At least that is what my elders say.

But deep down we know it is just a comforting lie.

The truth is the cracks will always be there and that is just something we will choose to deny.

“Charlie, where are you?!” I heard my mum scream.

Damn, that brought me back to reality.

There she was carrying out the boxes of useless crap that was laying around in my Grandfathers garage.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop carrying heavy things,” I said quietly, removing the box from her hands.

I looked over at her and had never seen her look so flustered and at that moment, I forgot about my pain. “Stop stressing, you’re not alone in this,” I said as I kissed her hand.

“Thank you” She smiled weakly

“Don’t touch anything else, I’ll continue from here and you can come tomorrow if you like”

I added.

“Sure.” She sighed.

As I began to walk back into my Grandfathers home,

I could not help but be irritated by the fact that I was the only person in the family apart from my Mother and Father that was truly helping.

It was not that I expected anything, at all.

All I wanted truly was to have him back.

However, it just did not make any sense to me why his other three Grand Children were getting the best and I basically got the short end of the stick.

You see, my grandfather was not a rich man at all, but his memorabilia meant a lot to him and he left it for his four Grand Children, I, of course, being one of them.

There was his watch collection that he loved the most which went to my older brother Dane, His jewels from his mother went to my elder sister Emily and some vinyls he had collected over the years went to my younger sister Carol.

Then lastly his mini-book collection, I say mini because eight out of ten of them are Dictionaries translated in different languages.

Oh and let’s not forget that special little black book he had within reach for over 15 years.

I am pretty sure I saw him just writing what groceries he needed in there once.

Ugh, there it is, the heart-crushing reality again.

I walk into the spare room of the nearly empty home, looking around there is not much except an old wardrobe and some clothes.

Then low and behold the box of books he left for me including his little black book, I flip through the first few pages and as expected there was nothing special written, just names of some people and numbers. I shut the book after flicking through the first few pages.

Useless I think to myself and put it in my bag anyway.

Exhausted with it all, I grab it, lock up the house and begin to walk outside, and throw the box in the back of my car.

As I get home, struggling to get the door open with my hands full, I finally manage to make it through then trip over. I get up instantly. Phew, no harm.

The sprawled contents of my bag were not so lucky.

As I collect everything and put it away, there it is again. The little black book

opened facedown. I pick it up and begin to flip through after the 8th page I realise the rest of the book is empty.

Why was he so obsessed with this book being near him all the time?

What made this book special?

I seriously do not understand this.

I felt myself getting stubborn and more curious so I just kept flicking through until hopefully I could get some sort of answer.

As I got closer to the middle of the book there was a page with writing.

Finally!

‘Keep going’ in my Grandfathers handwriting.

I froze like I had seen a ghost but kept going anyhow.

I get to the middle of the book.

More writing. oh my god.

‘Take the box of books I left for you home and open them when you are alone.’

Honestly, at this point, I was kind of getting creeped out.

So, I went and grabbed the Dictionaries out and started opening them one by one.

‘What was so special about these?’ I wondered.

There was nothing special about them until I got up to 10 the biggest book of them all.

‘Whoa, this is so heavy.’ I thought. as I opened it up.

I was speechless.

The dictionary had been hollowed out and replaced with what would be around $20,000

in cash with a simple note that read: ‘Did you really think I forgot about you?' – Love, your Grandpa.