When my grandson passed away at just 21, it left a hole in all our hearts. He was so full of life, with a deep love for animals—especially his parrot, Charlie. That bird was his pride and joy, always sitting on his shoulder or chirping happily when they were together.
After he was gone, his mother wasn’t sure she could keep Charlie. She loved him but didn’t know if she was ready for the responsibility. I could see how much it hurt her to think about it, so I offered to take Charlie. “Let me care for him,” I said. “He’s a part of him we can still hold on to.”
Now, Charlie is with me, brightening my days with his chatter and playful antics. He’s a constant reminder of the joy my grandson brought into the world. At 79, I never expected to bond so deeply with a parrot, but Charlie has become my companion, my connection to the grandson I miss so dearly, and a little piece of him that lives on.