What’s a small moment from your past that you still think about years later?

What’s a small moment from your past that you still think about years later?

I suppose there are quite a few moments I could choose from.

But if I’m honest, there’s one that comes to mind almost immediately.

My last interactions with my maternal grandparents.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How certain moments stay with you long after the people involved are no longer here.

I don’t necessarily think it’s always the big occasions that leave the deepest impression. Sometimes it’s the little things. The conversations, the time spent together, the things said, and even the things that perhaps weren’t said.

I have photographs of my grandparents in my office at home. They’re there every day, quietly looking back at me while I’m working, writing, or generally making a nuisance of myself.

And every now and again, I’ll catch sight of those photographs and find myself stopping for a moment.

Remembering.

Thinking about them.

Wondering what they’d make of the person I’ve become, and perhaps wishing I could have just one more conversation with them.

My maternal grandfather, W S Christian, was a particularly important influence in my life. He taught me a great deal about being a gentleman, about honesty, hard work, and treating people properly. Some of those lessons have stayed with me throughout my life.

In fact, there’s a reason his name became part of my own writing identity.

Some people leave you more than memories. They leave you with values, lessons and little pieces of themselves that you carry forward without even realising it.

And that’s something rather special.

But it’s not just my grandfather.

It’s the fact that I had two grandparents who were part of my life, and those last interactions with them are something I still think about years later.

I don’t think we ever really appreciate how precious those ordinary moments are while we’re living them.

You don’t necessarily know that a conversation will be one of your last. You don’t know that a visit, a hug or a simple goodbye will eventually become something you’ll replay in your head years down the line.

(It’s why I wrote “When I Said Goodnight, I didn’t know I meant goodbye”)

If I could go back, would I do things differently? Probably. I suspect most of us would.

I’d probably ask more questions, spend a little longer listening and make the most of whatever time we had.

But that’s the trouble with hindsight, isn’t it?

It has a habit of showing us the value of things only after they’ve become memories.

So those photographs in my office are staying exactly where they are.

They’re a reminder of where I’ve come from, the people who helped shape me, and the importance of trying to be the sort of person they would be proud of.

And perhaps that’s the thing about memories.

We don’t always get to choose which moments stay with us.

Sometimes they simply settle somewhere in our hearts and refuse to leave.

And I’m rather glad these ones haven’t.

Because while I can’t sit down and have another conversation with my grandparents, I can still carry a little of them with me every day.

And I do.

Stay safe,

BC