For my Grandpa
Hey.
Its been a while, and now that I'm thinking about it, that is actually an understatement.
Eight years.
Eight years ago, I was in high school. That summer, some of our family would be heading out across the Atlantic to a magical land I had never been; a magical land I like to call Europe. You would stay back home and 'hold down the fort.'
You would struggle because Oma was gone and you didn't know how to make rice.
Wow, I must get my cooking skills from you.
I remember the September and October days filled with your snores and I remember the oxygen tubing that ran from the computer room to your bedroom, where you took naps like it was your job.
I miss those days.
I wonder, so often, what you would say about me now. If you could see who I am now, what would you think? Would you be proud? Would you ask me about my job and the crazy patients I have had lately; would you ask me about the most recent book I've been holding in my hands; would you ask me about my friendships; would you watch hockey with us on the weekends; would you still dump sugar into your coffee; would you still give Coco half your bowl of ice cream; would we still have that show on TV that we called our own?
Time doesn't heal, it only makes the coping easier.
As time passes, it gets harder and harder to hear your voice, to remember what your voice sounded like, what your laugh sounded like.
I look at pictures, the ones from when I was small enough to hang around your neck to the last ones I ever took with you, and time seems to have reached a stand-still. You're in that picture, but you aren't here.
Those moments, proven to be real by a snap of a camera, became fleeting. The memories, proven to be real by the intense pain still felt, fade, and all I'm left with is wonder and tears.
But the missing you isn't all bad.
It proves I am human, that I am capable of love, of truly feeling.
My head fills with wonder and my eyes with tears when I think of you now, when I visit your metal name and purple flowers; I wonder what you would be saying to me in this very moment.
If you taught me anything, it was that the world is crazy and I am not, and that life is about moving on. No use in getting 'worked up' over the past; accept it for what it is and move on.
So even though life has moved on without you, know that we have not left you in the past.
That maybe you only impacted a small corner of the world, but to me that small corner is my world, and for you I am always and will forever be grateful.
Its been a while, and now that I'm thinking about it, that is actually an understatement.
Eight years.
Eight years ago, I was in high school. That summer, some of our family would be heading out across the Atlantic to a magical land I had never been; a magical land I like to call Europe. You would stay back home and 'hold down the fort.'
You would struggle because Oma was gone and you didn't know how to make rice.
Wow, I must get my cooking skills from you.
I remember the September and October days filled with your snores and I remember the oxygen tubing that ran from the computer room to your bedroom, where you took naps like it was your job.
I miss those days.
I wonder, so often, what you would say about me now. If you could see who I am now, what would you think? Would you be proud? Would you ask me about my job and the crazy patients I have had lately; would you ask me about the most recent book I've been holding in my hands; would you ask me about my friendships; would you watch hockey with us on the weekends; would you still dump sugar into your coffee; would you still give Coco half your bowl of ice cream; would we still have that show on TV that we called our own?
Time doesn't heal, it only makes the coping easier.
As time passes, it gets harder and harder to hear your voice, to remember what your voice sounded like, what your laugh sounded like.
I look at pictures, the ones from when I was small enough to hang around your neck to the last ones I ever took with you, and time seems to have reached a stand-still. You're in that picture, but you aren't here.
Those moments, proven to be real by a snap of a camera, became fleeting. The memories, proven to be real by the intense pain still felt, fade, and all I'm left with is wonder and tears.
But the missing you isn't all bad.
It proves I am human, that I am capable of love, of truly feeling.
My head fills with wonder and my eyes with tears when I think of you now, when I visit your metal name and purple flowers; I wonder what you would be saying to me in this very moment.
If you taught me anything, it was that the world is crazy and I am not, and that life is about moving on. No use in getting 'worked up' over the past; accept it for what it is and move on.
So even though life has moved on without you, know that we have not left you in the past.
That maybe you only impacted a small corner of the world, but to me that small corner is my world, and for you I am always and will forever be grateful.
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