Oliver was curious. He was waiting for something. Not for Christmas, not for his birthday, not for his friend to come over. He was waiting for death. Lying on his bed in the hospital and thinking. Wondering what he did right and what he did wrong. Regreting everything and remembering the last conversation that he had with his grandson that just turned 5 years old.
„Grandpa, i heared mum and dad talking. Dad said that you were dying, is that true?" asked his grandson with curiousity in his voice. „It is true, i am dying," said slowly Oliver. He didn't even think about telling him stupid lies about that he will be okay. Because he knew he will not. „And grandpa, what is death like? I have never experienced it," said Jimmy as he sat down on the side of the bed, where Oliver was lying. „So haven't I my dear Jimmy," smiled Oliver with his old face. „One of my friends told me, that when you die, whole your life repeats itself. I don't know how about you, but if it's true, i want to live a life that is worth living it again and again," shaked Jimmy his head.
Oliver started tearing up, when he remembered Jimmy's words. His head was full of regrets and his heart was broken. Not because he was dying, but because he lived. As he lied down here on his death bed he remembered his life. And in that dark stormy night an old man started crying.