Every time I was on my way to the airport to board a plane to university, leaving my Caribbean island and merging into the continent in the North, I would stop to say goodbye to my Grandfather (Gido). Every time I stopped he told me this:
"Before you make any decision, I want you to count to ten. Like this, (holding up his fingers)1, 2, 3,4, 5,6, 7, 8, 9, 10. If you still not sure, count again, like this,(once more holding up his fingers)1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,10."
Every time, he said the same sentence, exactly as I've written it. He died in 1985, 50 days after his wife died. At the time of his death he was apparently in good physical health, but the doctors said his heart gave out. RIP, Gido.
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