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A couple of weeks ago, my grandmother passed.
My grandfather, who was more of a father to me, passed today, and I am certain down to my bones that it was of a broken heart.
I want to cry for him as badly and as long as I cried for her, but I don't think I can, because I know that when I was crying for her, I was really crying for him. And now that he's gone, I know he wouldn't want me to cry at all.
The reason he could give his whole heart to going after his wife was because he knew we'd be alright if he left. There was no reason to tear his heart in two to leave one half behind because we couldn't stop weeping about it.
It's happened so soon after. When my sister stopped by today, we both told each other the same conclusion at about the same time, blurting it out over one another.
"Can we do this again? Can we handle it all over again?"
"I guess we have no choice."
"I guess we have to."
"I guess we can because we did it already."
I'm okay with that.
The only thing I'm not okay with is this weird heavy worry that I'll never be able in my life to love someone for as long as my grandfather loved my grandmother and with as much of my heart as he did. That's what's sad. I don't think I'm crying for him this time. I think maybe I'm crying for myself.
Ought to stop. Silly thing to cry for.
My grandfather, who was more of a father to me, passed today, and I am certain down to my bones that it was of a broken heart.
I want to cry for him as badly and as long as I cried for her, but I don't think I can, because I know that when I was crying for her, I was really crying for him. And now that he's gone, I know he wouldn't want me to cry at all.
The reason he could give his whole heart to going after his wife was because he knew we'd be alright if he left. There was no reason to tear his heart in two to leave one half behind because we couldn't stop weeping about it.
It's happened so soon after. When my sister stopped by today, we both told each other the same conclusion at about the same time, blurting it out over one another.
"Can we do this again? Can we handle it all over again?"
"I guess we have no choice."
"I guess we have to."
"I guess we can because we did it already."
I'm okay with that.
The only thing I'm not okay with is this weird heavy worry that I'll never be able in my life to love someone for as long as my grandfather loved my grandmother and with as much of my heart as he did. That's what's sad. I don't think I'm crying for him this time. I think maybe I'm crying for myself.
Ought to stop. Silly thing to cry for.
