Granddad
It happened in the summer. I was walking home after football practice one evening when I spotted an elderly man who had fallen on the pavement and couldnt get back up. Most people passing by gave him a wide berth, muttering under their breath that he must be drunk. He was mumbling something unintelligible and reaching his hands out for help. My mum always taught me to help others whenever I could, so I went over and asked, Do you need a hand?
He couldnt form any clear wordsjust kept making those noises and stretching his arms out towards me. A lady walking past scolded me, saying, Step away, cant you see hes drunk? Youll catch something nasty, and look at the state of him, hes filthy!
Looking closer, I noticed his hands were covered in blood. I wont lie, a wave of fear hit me then. I asked him what had happened but got nothing sensible, just more mumbling. He reached for a bag lying nearby, and inside it were shards of broken beer bottles. He picked up a few more pieces from the ground and stuffed them in the bag. Thats when I realised why his hands were cut and bleeding.
I took out some wet wipes and cleaned his hands as best I couldI know it might sound selfish, but I didnt want to get my clothes covered in blood. Once his hands were wiped clean, I helped lift him up. I asked him for his address, but he just mumbled again. Eventually, realising I wasnt getting anywhere, he started pointing in a direction, and I followed his lead. He brought me to a block of flats in the same estate. He gestured towards the intercom and indicated two numbers with his fingers. I figured that must be his flat number.
I buzzed the door, and a worried womans voice answered. He mumbled again and, in a matter of seconds, a woman and a man burst out onto the street. They rushed over to him, flustered, checking him over to make sure he was alright. The man thanked me before scooping the old gentleman up in his arms and carrying him inside. The woman kept asking how she could thank me. I told her it was nothing and started to leave, but she suddenly remembered something and asked me to wait. She dashed inside, returning a minute later with a huge punnet of raspberries. Homegrown, she boasted. I declined at first, but she insisted, pressing them into my hands. Go on, take them. We were beside ourselves when we came home from the countryside and couldnt find Granddad.
She explained, He was captured by the Germans during the war, and because he held a high post, he wounded his own tongue so he wouldnt give anything away. They didnt have much in the way of medical care there, so he ended up needing part of his tongue removedit got infected. He hasnt been able to speak properly since. In the evenings, teenagers gather on the playground and drink. They smash their bottles, leaving glass everywhere. Weve complained to the police, but nothing ever changes. The children pick up the rubbish or worse, get cuts on their hands and feet from the glass. After my daughter, Daisy, cut her foot, Granddad took it upon himself to clean up all the glass so the children wouldnt get hurt. Hes frailhis legs dont work like they used to. Weve begged him not to go, even hid his keys, but he always finds a way. Last time he fell, he lay there for five hours while I was at work. No one helped him. We were about to go searching when the buzzer rang. You have no idea how grateful we are.
After hearing that, I was completely lost for words. She thrust the raspberries into my arms and I bowed my head in thanksI genuinely had nothing to say. I trudged home, and halfway there, I broke down in tears.
Why is it like this here? Why do so many only think of themselves? If you see someone fall and cant get up, please dont assume the worst. Go up and checkmaybe they really need your help. And to the younger generation especially: lets remember to act like people, not animals. Thats what I learned tonight.
