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Oh God...I lost my grandfather this last summer, and he's the first person I've lost that was so close to me. Growing up I wanted to be just like him and did everything just as he did it. He caught chicken pox after a summer full of heart woes, so we knew he was not going to survive the chicken pox. So I made the five hour drive to meet up with my father and brother and go in and see him. It was the single hardest thing I've ever done to sit there and tell him how much he meant to me, and what a great grandfather he had been. He had already lost the ability to speak and couldn't say anything in return, but I could tell by looking in his eyes that he understood and loved me too. I cried more than I have ever cried in my life. But to tell him how much I cared...it meant the world. He died two days later in his sleep.
I only hope I can do the same with both of my parents before the time comes. In our family, it's very hard...we're very pragmatic about death and allow a lot of things to go unspoken because we assume they don't need to be said, they're just implicitly understood. But I know I need to say them at some point. I'm working up to it.
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If I am not better, at least I am different. --Jean-Jacques Rousseau
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