Of one good man

His whole life, he's been a simple, honest and hardworking man. My grandfather.
I think a lot about how it used to be.
We three kids went every weekend to the countryside to stay at my grandparents house. It's a good place.
We'd wake up, have breakfast with Grandma and then play all day long in the garden and the fields near the house with my cousins and the children from the neighbourhood.
By the time Granpa came home from the construction side, he would go for a bycicletour with us every evening. First he, leading the way, then my brother, me and my sister. We'd change order from time to time. We rode through fields and over rivers and when we'd get home after an hour or two, my grandma already made one of her tasty dishes.
It was a good time.
I try to think of it when I enter the clean withe room of the hospital my grandpa is now living in. I try to think of it when I look into his eyes and realize: He does not know who I am.
His world has become full of unkown faces and places. Only waiting for his brain and heart to finally give in... I've become afraid of him.
Can you at least remember what date it is today?
I'm sorry Grandpa.
Happy Birthday