If you read this last night, you're ready- here it comes- a deep blog.
It's more personal than anything, but not in a creepy way. I've been waiting to tell this blog. I was going to write it when I first started blogging back this summer, but I figured I'd save it for christmas. I almost forgot about it, then I found a little sticky note reminding myself to do it.
I told myself I would, and this is going to be difficult for me to type, but I'm sticking to my word.
About three years ago, we had our annual Christmas party. It's mainly my dad's work and some close family, and it's always a pretty big deal. At the same time, my grandpa on my dad's side was pretty sick. He had just had some heart problems recently, so they were just keeping watch on him. Party was going like normal. My cousin Koryn and I would hang out in my room, occasionally my little cousin Jacob would come hang out with us, and our two youngest cousins Luke & trey would play with the legos and try to crash into my room and mess with my stuff. Usual. We were being really silly. It was just normal, fun, a usual party. Then we got a call. My grandpa had suffered from a heart attack and was in the hospital. It's like everything froze. My aunts and parents were all in my dad's office waiting around the phone for the next call. Luke & Trey didn't know. We decided not to tell them, they were really young, and it was almost Christmas and we didn't want them worrying. Koryn, Jacob and I started to kinda just cool down in my room. Just sit down. Occasionally one of us would "spy" almost downstairs to see what was happening.
Then we got another phone call. My grandpa had died. [I'm sorry, let me say this right now, for being so personal with you. I just really felt that I should get this out. And I am tearing up a little right now because of the next part of this, but please don't feel bad or anything, it happens.] Koryn, Jacob and I went in my room after finding out. We all sat around. Koryn on my bed, Jacob in a chair, I was on the floor under my dresser. Jacob was crying like crazy, Koryn was crying, and I was just sitting there. We were talking about memories we had with my Grandpa, and it just made them cry even more. No matter what, though, I could not cry. It wasn't just "building up" and I don't know to this day if I was just in shock... but I couldn't cry. And that drove me crazy.
We flew up to MInnesota for his funeral. It was depressing for me because I felt so guilty, so selfish that I couldn't even cry upon my own dad's father's death. I was just being horrible. Me and my cousin, Chelsea, who I never even get to see, fought even over it. We both wanted to right him a song to put in his coffin. We tore ourselves a part over it, and stopped talking to each other for the whole time we were there. For the first time in my life, I saw my dad cry at the funeral. And I went up to see him, and nothing happened. Nothing would make me cry. And at this point i was so sad from not being able to cry, that i wanted to cry. Something was wrong with me. This is the part I hate. I hate myself for this... I couldn't go to his funeral. I couldn't bring myself to it. I thought that I didn't deserve to see him that one last time because I couldnt even cry for him, what kind of a granddaughter was I? So I went inside a room in the church, curled up on a recliner and tried to force myself to cry. I just sat there. Thinking about everything. Kinda thinking how it would be to go out to the funeral, and ultimately deciding against it. I was there for the burial, but I regretted to this day on not taking the last chance I had to see my grandpa.
It always struck tears to my eyes (a little late) when thinking about it after. I've already cried a few times just typing this up. I went and pulled out an old teddy bear that he & my Grandma gave me for Christmas the year before. It's pretty emotional for me now, but the biggest healing point was just randomly in church a year or so back. It came to the Our Father (Any non-Catholics, it's a part of our mass), and nobody was next to me on one side, so my hand was open. I closed my eyes when I said it, just because, and I felt somebody squeezing my hand. Of course there was no one next to me. But it felt big and warm just like my grandpas did. And I could imagine him there with me, just watching over me. And now constantly, I'm overjoyed when I have a free hand, because I close my eyes and just hope he'll come and be with me. I know he's always watching over me. I know he's not mad at me for not seeing him one last time, or that I couldnt cry. I know he understands, and is so proud of everything I've become, and I almost feel like he's helping me type this right now. I know he can see me crying, and that he's with God right now looking down on me. Smiling.
That's why through all of these tears, I'm partially smiling, because at the end of it I know he's there with me. He always will be.
In Loving Memory
Loving and Loved Husband, Father, and Grandfather
"Can anything ever separate us from Christ's love? Does it mean he longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? ......... No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow -- not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below -- indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:35 - 39
"Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies."
2 Corinthians 4:10
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