Three years ago today, my grandad passed away. We had an extremely close relationship all throughout my life. I was his first grandchild, so we had a very special bond. I spent nearly every day with him, and he taught me many of my very first lessons in life. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to play the piano, and how to read. Often in the summertime, he would take me to Disneyland or Knott's Berry Farm, or we would simply take a walk around the local park in our city. Afterwards, of course, there was always ice cream involved
Other days, he would tell me stories from his life. He would tell me about his time in the Phillippinnes during the Korean War, or about the effect his older brother's death had on him after he was killed in World War Two. He would tell me happier stories, too, such as the story of how he met my grandmother, or the day he graduated from college.
As I got older, my relationship changed with him a bit. These were harder times for me. I made a lot of dumb choices as a teenager, and many members of my family were upset with me because of these choices. I could tell that my grandad was disappointed with me as well, but things were different with him. Rather than just get upset with me, he would try to talk to me and figure out how I could make things better. If it weren't for him and those talks, I'm not sure where I would be now in life.
When he got sick, I wouldn't admit it to myself. I would tell myself that he was going to be fine, because I simply couldn't imagine the alternative. I didn't want to know what my life would be like without him, because the thought was too painful. As he got sicker and sicker, I kept lying to myself that everything was going to be ok.
The last time I saw him was a week before he died. He was in a nursing home at this time, but he was looking better. The doctor told me that he might even be able to go home soon. I was so happy and relieved. Finally, some good news!
One week later, I got a strange text from my uncle. He said that he was coming down to visit, and that he was at the hospital with my grandma. I was really confused. My uncle lives in San Francisco, which is kinda far from where I grew up in Orange County. He never made an unmentioned visit like that before. It made me pretty nervous, so I asked my boyfriend at the time if he could drive me to my grandparents' house. I think deep down inside, I knew at that point, but I simply couldn't admit it to myself.
When I got to their house, I became even more nervous. I saw my mom's car in front of their house, which I knew was a bad sign. My mom lives about four hours north of Orange County, and she was supposed to be at work that day. As soon as I walked up to the house, my mom told me the news. My grandad had passed away early that morning. It was the worst moment of my life so far. I felt like my heart had shattered into a million tiny pieces.
How was I supposed to go on? My best friend, and the person I was closest to in my life, was gone, and he was never coming back. I would never be able to come into his house again and find him in the TV room, watching History Channel on full blast, eating a bowl of ice cream, with his arms open to me so I could give him a hug. I would never again hear him say, "Have I told you lately that I love you?" He would say that to me every day, and sometimes it would get a bit annoying. But now, I would give anything just to hear him say that again.
Some days I miss him so much, it hurts. It might sound strange to some people that I was so close with my grandad, but he made me feel like I could do anything in the world, if only I had faith in myself. He made me believe in myself, and helped shape the woman I am today. As much as I miss him, I can look back on our memories now and smile.
So, Grandad, if you are somehow able to read this, I just want you to know that I love you and miss you every day. My life without you isn't the same, and it never will be. If there really is life after death, I know I will see you there one day <3
You are all such great support.