I was 6 years old when I found out my grandpa passed away. I remember every moment from getting told he died to his funeral. The day my grandpa passed seemed like any other day, as my sister and I spent it with our dad for my sister’s fifth birthday. My sister wanted to eat dinner at Cheddar’s, so that night we grabbed dinner for her birthday. While my sister and I ate, we didn’t know that my grandpa went through surgery in the hospital.
I think about that night quite often. His death didn’t hit me that hard because as a 6-year-old, I didn’t know what was happening. When I turned 13-years-old, all the grief I didn’t quite understand hit me like a ton of bricks. I kept asking myself the same question, “What would my life look like if he was here?” For nights at a time, it was hard to sleep because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my grandpa even after seven years.
I get scared when I think about forgetting him. I don’t want to forget those memories. The memories of our dance parties or watching him play pool in his man-cave. The days where my sister and I would bet on if my grandpa or we would get home first. Usually he beat us home first, but we still had fun running to him saying, “We beat you to the house today!”
The grief still hits me after all this time. Days that felt perfect but then I get to my room, and all of the sudden I am hit with the thought of losing him. I always thought that grief would be short and that I would only grieve for a couple of years. That isn’t true though. I hear people talk about their grandpa and I see posts of people and their grandpa and it hurts. I lost years of growing up with my grandpa by my side to cheer me on and see my achievements.
Talking about him helps me keep his memory alive. Anytime I get the chance to talk about him I take it. My grandma and I talk for hours about my grandpa. Going back and forth between memories and jokes. He would always stick his tongue out at me or my sister and then proceed to say “I am not sticking my tongue out at you. I am sticking it out at the wall.”
He never got to see me graduate elementary school. He will never meet my best friend. He will never see me sing in choir. He won’t see me graduate high school. He won’t be at my wedding. All of those things will forever be a part of my grief.
10 years later, I am 16 and still have my moments of grief. Although I lost my grandpa, I don’t let that define me. I am who I am today because of him. I live for him and all of the things I have accomplished are because he has been by my side in spirit.
