バナ@39
The alcohol makes the memory go back.
Jan.
My grandfather died.
I had just posted that he had collapsed last November.
I had heard that he had been talking hatefully to the nurses, and I thought he was still going to live stubbornly.
I heard that at the end, he stopped eating and became weaker and weaker.
When I went home to attend the funeral, I found a pack of cigarettes on the seat where he used to sit.
I see. You can't smoke in the hospital, right?
They don't serve hospital food with sweets, which Grandpa liked, and they wouldn't let me visit him in his Corona.
Maybe he was sulking. He must have realized it himself.
I knew I couldn't go home anymore, and that I couldn't smoke.
He even started to do his own housework, which he was not used to doing since his grandma collapsed, in order to smoke cigarettes.
In heaven, he will probably be able to smoke as much as he wants, so please smoke as much as you can without making Grandma feel sorry for you.
So, Shinomine.
There are times when I feel like drinking Shinomine.
This was that day.
Perhaps it is because there are so many unfiltered raw sake recently, but the comments tend to be similar.
Aromatic, well-balanced sweet and sour, youthful, sharp, and bitter.
This sake is like that.
It is delicious. But my grandfather preferred barley shochu.
Let's drink barley shochu today.
Japanese>English