You would think after all these years it would be easier. That after all this time some of the weight would have lifted. My heart still feels heavy when I remember that you're gone.
It's not that I ever forget really, more some days your absence is more bearable than others. I didn't have the chance to mourn your loss with others. I mourned your loss, your absence, before you passed and then I mourned again when I heard the news.
Funny, how some think you mourn and they it just goes away. It hasn't. It doesn't. I've tried talking to people about it but they don't seem to understand. Maybe that's why funerals are so important.
Funerals don't lessen the blow, but it helps I suppose on some level to know you aren't alone. That others are suffering and hurting too. That in that moment, someone else understands exactly what you're feeling. I never had that though.
Everything changed when I made my choice. I didn't know at the time that it would mean losing you too. If I had known, maybe I would have done things differently. I still hate myself.
The last time we talked, I didn't know it would be our last conversation. I still think about that phone call, even twelve years later. I guess I should be thankful that the last thing I ever said to you was that I love you. And that I knew, you still loved me too even if I abandoned you.
I know you understand that I left because it wasn't working with my father. Maybe it was just too hard an adjustment to go from having a child around once every two weeks, to her being there everyday. Maybe I was just too big a burden.
If what happened years later is any indication, I just wasn't worth his time. I'm still not, but that's another story.
I keep wondering if I had just been a better daughter, would he have loved me as much as you did. Truth is, I don't think anyone could have loved me as much as you did Grandpa.
I was too young to understand everything you did for me when you were alive. And I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you passed. I didn't even find out until years later. Your son didn't tell me and nobody else could. But that doesn't stop me from hating myself for not being there.
It's illogical, but I keep telling myself I should have known, sensed somehow that you weren't in this world anymore. Small comfort that I know where your grave is now but I supposed it's better late than never.
Never. It reminds me that although I said I love you more times than I can count, I never told you how much I appreciated everything you did for me. I can't help but wonder if you knew.
I'm afraid that you thought maybe someone told me you were going to pass and that I just didn't show up to see you. I'm afraid you thought I didn't care.
Children are selfish and on a level, I was no different. I didn't appreciate you enough but I hope you know I would have been there for you if I had known. If I could have been. I'm sorry you got caught between me and my father.
I still buy the cookies sometimes. Even when I don't, whenever I see them on the grocery store shelves, my thoughts still go immediately to you.
It's funny the things that can make you think of someone. The Deli we went to is where I actually found out you passed away. Willy told me. After I left home with my now husband, something told me I had to go there.
I listened. He knew who I was right away. I asked him about you and he told me where you were buried. He told me when you had passed. He had a feeling I hadn't known since I hadn't been at the funeral. He knew how much I adored you and that if I had known, I would have been there.
I still wonder even now, what exactly my father told people at your funeral that noticed my absence. Perhaps he told them the same thing he told me when I confronted him about him not telling me of your passing; that I didn't care for anyone but myself.
He always did like to paint me as the villain. Even years later when HE turned his back on my daughter, he somehow blamed me for it when all I ever did was try to let my child know her grandfather.
I often wondered how someone like him could share any DNA with someone like you. You were so caring and selfless. He clearly didn't inherit those traits but that's a story for another time I suppose.
I found Grandma years later and she told me you had still loved me. That brought me comfort. If you still loved me, then maybe you understood that I only left because I couldn't handle my father anymore. That maybe you didn't hate me as I feared.
There is a picture that you used to keep in your room. The wedding picture of you and grandma. When I was a little girl, I was always drawn to it. I always wanted to have it one day.
And now I do. I feel lucky that your son didn't care enough to hold onto something so precious. Your wedding picture is safely tucked away. When I miss the two of you more than usual, I pull it out and look at it. I won't keep it out. I don't want to risk something happening to it.
Maybe it's silly, but I feel like a part of you and grandma is with me because of that picture. When I bring it out, I put it down and stare at it. Sometimes I touch your faces and think about how much I miss you. How much I wish you were here with me.
I always cry when I look at that photo. Sometimes, the tears fill my eyes and I hold them in and other times, I left them flow almost like an offering to the two of you.
I don't think I will ever stop missing you. But I know you would want me to live my life and be happy.
I wonder if you would be proud of the person I am. I'd like to think so but I'm far from perfect. Then again, I was far from it then too, and you still loved me anyway. There aren't very many people in my life who I can say have loved me unconditionally.
I was always lucky to have you and I'm sorry I never told you that more when it counted.
My heart still breaks, even now, almost thirteen years later.
good article