Sorry

rest in peace

Abuelo.

When I think about you, you’re smiling and laughing and wearing your favorite hat and cowboy boots and a button down shirt and speaking Spanish with that rough, deep voice of yours.

When I think about you, you’re perfectly alive.

And then I have to remind myself that the latter is no longer true, that you suddenly left us without any warning whatsoever, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around that fact or grasp that you’re not coming back and it just doesn’t make any sense.

There are many things left unsaid and many more tears to shed. So, before I bid you a final farewell, I just want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that no one made it in time to save you. I’m sorry that I never called you as much as I should’ve. I’m sorry that I never learned to speak Spanish fluently. I’m sorry that I failed at ever having a full conversation with you. I’m sorry that Grandma refused to speak to you. I’m sorry that she won’t get the chance to tell you that she forgave you. I’m sorry that I’m crying now instead of accepting that you’re no longer suffering. I’m sorry that you were all alone when it happened. I’m sorry that none of us actually got to say goodbye.

I’m sorry.