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00:00Growing up, some of my fondest memories are of my grandpa. He wasn't a man of grand gestures

00:09or loud pronouncements. His love was quieter, more profound. It lived in the crinkle of his

00:18eyes when he smiled, the comforting weight of his hand on my shoulder, and most of all

00:25in the stories he used to read. Every evening, after dinner, was story time.

00:34My siblings, my cousins, and I would all gather around his big armchair a jumble of eager kids

00:43with wide eyes. Grandpa would pull out a well-worn book, settle back, and then reach for his glasses.

00:52They were simple, silver-rimmed spectacles, but to me, they were magical. The moment he

01:00put them on, the world outside would fade away, and we'd be transported to lands of dragons,

01:08brave knights, and talking animals. He had a special voice for every character, a booming

01:16roar for a giant, a tiny squeak for a mouse. He'd pause for dramatic effect, his eyes twinkling

01:25over the top of those glasses, making sure he had our complete attention. We'd hang on

01:33every word, completely captivated. Those stories weren't just stories. They were bridges he built

01:42between his world and ours, woven with love and imagination. His glasses were the key, the portal

01:52to these shared adventures. Then the day came when the armchair was empty. The silence in the evenings

02:02was deafening. Losing Grandpa left a hole in our family that felt impossible to fill. The world seemed

02:12a little less magical, a little less bright. His room was kept just as he left it, and one afternoon,

02:22while looking for a photo, I found his glasses resting on his favourite book on the nightstand. Picking them

02:30up, I felt their familiar weight. I could almost feel the warmth of his hands. I slipped them on.

02:39The world went blurry. Of course, the prescription all wrong for me. But through the distortion,

02:47I saw more than just a fuzzy room. I saw years of shared laughter, of whispered secrets, of comforting hugs.

02:58I saw a legacy of love. That evening, I saw my younger cousins looking lost, the usual spark missing from

03:08their eyes. An idea, a whisper from the heart, took hold. I walked over to the bookshelf, grabbed one of the

03:19old story books, and sat in Grandpa's armchair. It felt too big, too empty. I took a deep breath,

03:30and then I put on his glasses. All heads turned towards me. The little ones scooted closer, their expressions

03:41was a mix of curiosity and hope. My voice trembled a little at first as I began to read. I tried to

03:51do the voices, the booming giant and the squeaky mouse, just like Grandpa did. It wasn't perfect,

04:00not by a long shot. My voice cracked, and I stumbled over some words. But as I looked over the top of

04:09those glasses, I saw the same wide, captivated eyes that used to look at him. In that moment,

04:18he wasn't gone. He was right there with us, in the story, in the shared silence between pages,

04:28in the love that filled the room. The glasses weren't magical because they helped him see the words.

04:35They were magical because they helped us see each other. They became a symbol, a way to carry him with

04:44us. Now, story time is my time. I wear the glasses, and I read to the next generation. It's our tradition.

04:55It's how we remember. It's how we keep his love alive, passed down from one storyteller to the next.

05:05Because love doesn't end, it just finds new ways to be told. It lives on in the traditions we keep,

05:15in the stories we share, connecting us across the years, generation to generation.

05:23But thank you for watching. If you have a family tradition that keeps a memory alive,

05:30I'd love to read about it in the comments below. Don't forget to like and subscribe for more stories.

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