These chives are very special to me. Early in 2004, or it could have been late 2003, my Grandfather gave these chives to me. He carefully removed them from his own garden. He lovingly wrapped them in newspaper for me. He then put them in two plastic bags so they would not make a mess in my car. I remember it took him ages. I am ashamed to admit it, but that day I was impatient and just wanted to get home, I was not that bothered about the chives. But he insisted I take them. I still remember him getting them ready, his slow laboured movements. His shallow breathing, his lungs struggling with emphysema. How he wrapped them up ever so carefully, with love, for me
At the time his health was failing. In the following months, it was sad and difficult to watch this fiercely independent man, so used to doing everything for himself, being bedridden and reliant on others for almost everything. In a few weeks it will be 6 years since he died. I still miss him and think of him often. I wish he could have met my children, they would have loved him.
Who would have thought a pot of chives could make me cry today. These chives are so special to me, so treasured, evoke such memories.
Grandpa, we love your chives. I have kept them alive and we love cooking with them. A few times they have died back, and I have been anxious I may have killed them, but they keep growing back.
I am so grateful you took the time that day to give them to me. I don't know what I will do with them when we move to Hong Kong
. It will be strange to be separated from them. I guess these chives have become like an invisible link to my Grandpa, one of the last real links to him I have left to treasure - apart from the happy memories.
Here is a photo of me and Grandpa taken 7 years ago at my brothers wedding, where I was one of the bridesmaids (so long ago, I have short, red hair!)