When I was young my grandfather used to take me home from school in his motorcycle. I would put my helmet on and hold tight to him so I wouldn’t fall. I used to be so scared. But we always arrived safe home.
When I was about 12 years old my grandfather had an accident just in front of our house. It was dark and he was just returning home. He took a turn to enter our driveway and didn’t see another motorbike coming his way. They crashed.
My grandfather was barely hurt. The other rider was spit from his motorbike and crashed into a wall. He died on the spot. He was about 18 years old and very dear in our town.
It didn’t matter to anyone that the young rider didn’t have his lights on and was speeding.
My grandfather was a killer. He should be the one to die.
That’s what we heard everyday when we stepped outside our house. At school the kids were awful. I remember that my 3 closest friends stood by me when it all got too much to take it and ran to the bathroom to cry.
The day came when my grandfather was called to go to court. I remember being in his house the day before and he insisted in giving me a goodnight kiss. It was unexpected.
He died that night in his sleep. He wasn’t sick and he wasn’t that old. He died of unbearable guilt.
“God knows what is hiding in this world of little consequence
Behind the tears, inside the lies
A thousand slowly dying sunsets
God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts
Guess the loneliness came knocking
No one needs to be alone”
By Cheery Ghost “People help the people”