Wednesday would have been my grandpa’s 77th birthday. I originally wanted to write Wednesday night but my thoughts still can’t seem to wrap around how he’s not here to celebrate. I shouldn’t have to write about my grandpa’s birthday because he should be here to celebrate. He’s not. He is never coming back.
Every birthday my mom always reminded us girls to call our dear old grandpa and wish him a happy birthday. Our conversations consisted of me telling him happy birthday, him asking how i’m doing, me asking how he’s doing, and him finishing by telling me to come visit. I should have visited more. I should have spent more time with him. Now i’m alone and he is gone. I miss him. I miss his voice. I miss being able to call him. Now I only have two voicemails he left on my mom’s phone the week he died.
My family put flowers at his crash site on Wednesday to remember him. I drove by there today. I drove by his old house today. I think the major reason I cannot seem to move forward is because I’m stuck. My grandpa didn’t die at the crash site. He died in the hospital. My grandpa wasn’t buried. He was cremated. I don’t have a place to visit him. To remember him. Not that I need a place, because I know it was his wish to be cremated, but I need a place. I can’t just waltz into the hospital room where he breathed his last breath and remember him.
His house is vacant. A window is broken. His last name is still painted on the mailbox in his silly handwriting. I don’t think of it as his house much because he had only moved there a few years ago. I still pains me that my family had to let his house go. He wouldn’t want his gate open. He wouldn’t want his house, there, completely vulnerable. He always protected what he had. Took pride in what he had. Worked hard for what he had.
Tomorrow our family is getting together to celebrate his birthday together. I am wrapping myself up with baking goodies to keep my mind off the pain. I would rather stay home, alone, and wallow in my sadness and grief. I hate crying in front of people. I hate seeing my mom cry. Oh the pain she is in. I worry about her.
I love you more than anything. I am sorry for the lack of time spent with you these past few years. Thank you for always being the best grandpa to us. You helped in so many ways and I will never be able to say thank you enough. I hope I made you proud of the woman I have and am becoming. Thank you for loving me unconditionally. I’m sorry that I didn’t always show my love to you. I know you are having a blast in heaven and causing trouble. Oh won’t you visit me in my dreams? You’ll always be more than just a memory. I love you from the bottom of my heart.
Happy birthday grandpa.