The Last Letter that i have written

this is not exactly a story but a small passage about my last letter to my grandfather

                        The last letter that I had written

                 I remember the last time I had written a letter, was a letter to my grandfather who happens to be no more in this world now. It’s been 2 years since he left but still there never goes a day when I don’t think of him or the days when we sat together and talk over anything from politics to religion to food and traveling.
                    That day when I sat down to write a letter to someone, I had perturbing questions popping again and again troubling my sanity, who better could it be to ask than my grandfather.
                    In the letter I had asked him “what life meant to him and how one could lead a content life without any regrets. I had also asked him “why hatred develops amongst those, who once loved each other so much. I even asked him “what is the most difficult thing about aging”.

                    There were many more things which I wanted to ask but unfortunately the ink in my pen got over, so I posted the letter with the closing lines with another ink pen, which I had wanted to avoid.
This was the last correspondence between my grandfather and me, to which he had replied too. Soon after I had received his reply, he expired of which I would always feel pained deep down thinking had the ink in my pen not got over I could have written a little more about my troubled mind and heard some more from him.