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I lost my Grandfather in May.
He was the only grandparent I had left. I didn't really realize how it would effect me until I saw him in his coffin. I saw my own father cry and that alone made it even harder on me. It is not often you see your parents cry. Usually they are the strong ones.
Now I think about my grandpa every time I drive past where he used to live. I think about how often I used to do that and never stop to say hello. I think about how I was his favorite grandaughter and it makes me cry thinking about all the time I didn't spend with him. I think about him laying in his hospital bed and asking me to give him a hug even though he was so delirious that he barely knew what was going on. I think about the things that he gave me and how he was concerned with my happiness even as he was leaving this world. He lived to be almost 90 with no health problems. Not many people can do that.
I miss him.
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