If I’m being completely honest then I think I would say that I’m missing my grandfather. There’s a big part of me that just hasn’t accepted that he isn’t here anymore. Yesterday I went with my mom to his apartment and we both just started crying. It was as if, up until that moment, we could believe that he was still there. . . sitting at his desk. . . doing a crossword puzzle.
We were cleaning the place out and I found this picture of Charlie that my mom had sent him on e-mail. He’d printed out and put it in a frame.
Makes me wistful. . .
We can’t live forever, and he lived a good, full life. I’m not sad for him. . . I’m sad for me.
He’s gone and there is a hole where he belongs.
That’s just how it is sometimes.