Heaven Bound
I'll See You Later
I leaned down to kiss the hand I was holding at his bedside. The same one I never wanted to let go of. I looked into his eyes and "we love you old man." He had become mute in the midst of his illness, therefore you could not hear the words, but only see them. He said to me "I love you more." The thing is, I heard them loud and clear, and every word tore through me. Mostly because some part of me knew it was true. The guilty part of me knew it. I gave his hand one last squeeze and with my sister headed out of the door. As soon as we hit the hallway away from his room, I lost it. My legs started to feel numb and my heart was squeezing so tight I thought it would explode. The tears just came bursting out of me along with my cries to god. It hit me then that, I will never see my grandfather again. I couldn't continue to walk on my own. My sister put her arm around me as we walked to my mother in the other room. I thought seeing her would make everything better, I was completely wrong. Nothing she said convinced me that i would be okay. The guilt was so heavy it only made me cry more, until no more tears would come out. The days dragged on and the guilt stayed heavy. I mentally prepared myself for the day we got the phone call of his passing.
On March 28, 2014 we got the call. My chest felt replaced with a ton of bricks and my throat felt swollen. I couldn't bear to hear the last of the words, so I simply walked away. I then realized no amount of mental preparation would help, it was the same feeling I got when I left that hospital room. Weeks passed until his first service came. The guilt just kept eating at me. I listened to friends and family members tell stories, and life lessons that they learned from him. I then realized, I had nothing. Only a few vague memories of when I was 10 that I don't even remember. That was my guilt. I should have tried harder, I should have been around more. I should have shown him that I loved him and that it would hurt this much that I lost him. I stayed silent at the service and for weeks after. I cried and let the guilt eat at me because, I felt I deserved it. After a few weeks it became too much for me, I decided I had to talk about it. I sat down with my mom and poured my gilt out. She understood everything and made me realize, it's never to late to talk to him. His Body May not be around but his soul is. After listening to her I took her advice and sat down in my bathroom and let the tears take over me. I closed my eyes and looked up to heaven. I started talking and all that came out of my mouth was, sorry. I told him how sorry I was I didn't try hard enough. That I didn't show him I loved him as much as I should have. That he meant the world to me, and that It shouldn't have taken his death to make me realize it. After I cried and talked to him I felt a warmth come over me. I felt a weight lift off of my chest and my tears stopped. I knew at that moment he heard me.
After speaking with my grandfather I learned a lot of things I never realized I knew. He's not only with me in spirit but he is apart of me. He is my dad's father and I am my father's daughter. The light I have inside of me, the spunk, sarcasm, and humor, all come from my grandfather. He taught my to open my eyes to the little things most people don't open thiers to. That love, can be shown in anyway. It doesn't have to be a big gesture, but even a small one works. He also taught me that, It was Never Goodbye.
I sat down one last time. Closed my eyes. Looked to heaven, and told him.
"It's Not Goodbye. It's I'll See You Later."
On March 28, 2014 we got the call. My chest felt replaced with a ton of bricks and my throat felt swollen. I couldn't bear to hear the last of the words, so I simply walked away. I then realized no amount of mental preparation would help, it was the same feeling I got when I left that hospital room. Weeks passed until his first service came. The guilt just kept eating at me. I listened to friends and family members tell stories, and life lessons that they learned from him. I then realized, I had nothing. Only a few vague memories of when I was 10 that I don't even remember. That was my guilt. I should have tried harder, I should have been around more. I should have shown him that I loved him and that it would hurt this much that I lost him. I stayed silent at the service and for weeks after. I cried and let the guilt eat at me because, I felt I deserved it. After a few weeks it became too much for me, I decided I had to talk about it. I sat down with my mom and poured my gilt out. She understood everything and made me realize, it's never to late to talk to him. His Body May not be around but his soul is. After listening to her I took her advice and sat down in my bathroom and let the tears take over me. I closed my eyes and looked up to heaven. I started talking and all that came out of my mouth was, sorry. I told him how sorry I was I didn't try hard enough. That I didn't show him I loved him as much as I should have. That he meant the world to me, and that It shouldn't have taken his death to make me realize it. After I cried and talked to him I felt a warmth come over me. I felt a weight lift off of my chest and my tears stopped. I knew at that moment he heard me.
After speaking with my grandfather I learned a lot of things I never realized I knew. He's not only with me in spirit but he is apart of me. He is my dad's father and I am my father's daughter. The light I have inside of me, the spunk, sarcasm, and humor, all come from my grandfather. He taught my to open my eyes to the little things most people don't open thiers to. That love, can be shown in anyway. It doesn't have to be a big gesture, but even a small one works. He also taught me that, It was Never Goodbye.
I sat down one last time. Closed my eyes. Looked to heaven, and told him.
"It's Not Goodbye. It's I'll See You Later."