Tell Me Grandpa

• Tiarne Reedy, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2011

"Grandpa, why were you scared of the helicopter?" A young girl asked, crawling onto an elderly man's lap.
"Honey, did I not tell you of my job?" The man asked, looking down at his granddaughter. She smiled up at him and her brown eyes filled with curiosity.
"No,” she said, as she settled herself comfortably on the man’s lap, waiting for the story of his past.
He sighed as he glanced outside the window and wondered why everything was so peaceful, when the world was not. How should he, if he could, tell her the information she wanted to know, without shattering her innocent youth.
How was he to tell her of his time in the war, where clothes remained dirty and pain was not uncommon? Where living was the nightmare and letting go was a dream.
Why tell a young girl of all the times he had said goodbye? As friends whispered their last words as a prayer and hoped against hope, that they will see their child smile at least once more.
Should he to tell her of the tears that went unnoticed and the words unspoken? Of the pain, when telegrams came to the door?
Where men, only a few years older than her, gave up everything for others to smell fresh air and feel free.
How hearts yearned for loved ones and hands reached out, coming back empty handed. Where hope and faith were like the thinnest of strings.
Was he to tell her of the letters that never reached their destinations, as it was too late? Why men curled up in sadness and fear?
How could he explain to her that a touch of warmth was all a person needed to survive, and that an embrace of love could keep men alive?
Could he bring himself to tell her of the screams of agony that left his own lungs and that he was one of many, which lost a limb?
How would he explain the relief of stepping off the train and seeing blue skies, flowers and trees? Of feeling happiness for the first time in years?
He couldn’t explain to her of his rejoice when he saw a smiling face. He couldn’t tell her about the suffering of the world and how sadness defeated happiness for so many years.
He would not tell her that her father followed in his footsteps but did not return.
“My dear, my job… is one of which we cannot discuss. It would be too much,” The old man said, not wiping away the tear that slowly fell down his cheek, “The past was not joyful, and they are memories that I must bear alone.”