Today, I Miss Them

I remember the day Granny died. I remember being there the day before, telling her we were leaving to get ice cream (we weren’t; we were leaving for the night to stay with my aunt). She knew the truth, and she knew she wouldn’t be there when we got back, but she played along and told me to bring some ice cream back to her. I told her I would, and that’s the last conversation I had with her. The next morning, she was gone. One minute, she was breathing; the next minute, she was no longer of this world. I saw her lifeless body soon after that, and it wasn’t the easiest thing to endure. I was fifteen, and I felt like my world had collapsed around me.

Eight months later, Pawpaw came to visit. We went to the aquarium, and he wasn’t feeling that well. Later that night, he asked to go to the hospital–something he wouldn’t have done if he wasn’t worried something was wrong. He told me he’d be back; he didn’t come back. He died of congestive heart failure in the hospital bed. I was sixteen. He was my favorite man in the world, and Granny had made me promise to take care of him, the love of her life. I wasn’t hard on myself when he died–by that point, I knew it was a part of life, and I was becoming numb to death. I was angry, though, that two people who I loved with my entire being were gone.

I’m twenty-one now. As the years pass, it gets easier to live without them–because it has to. In the past, I was confused. I had some really bad moments.

Today, I miss them. I miss them every day, but it’s different some days. I often try to forget that year of my life because it’s sometimes easier to do so. There are a few things I won’t forget, though, because I don’t want to: the way they held hands in bed while Granny was sick; the way Pawpaw cried when Granny was saying her goodbyes–it showed me exactly what true love was; the way they kissed when they knew they’d be apart for a little while; the way Pawpaw sat next to me at Granny’s memorial service and squeezed my hand, allowing me to realize I didn’t have to try to prove my strength around him–that I could cry now. They’re all sad moments, but they were the perfect example of love.

Those memories are also a reminder of where they are now–together for eternity. Wherever that may be, it’s exactly where they want to be.