Changing through loving memory

My Grandfather died at 6pm on August 3rd. At 3 We were told over the phone he was dying. We got to the hospital at 4. I was holding his wrist along with his entire family holding him as he flickered away. It was cancer, he never told anyone. It was a shock to all of our systems. Everyone is still in agreement that we expected him to live so much longer.

In the days that followed his death I placed a picture of him as a child on my bed then next to it one of his high school graduation, then his wedding photo, one of he and I when I was 2 then, one of my own graduation, lastly the image a had of his death bed. The common thread was in each photo his bright smile was beaming with pride and his eyes were full of joy. Then I thought, not too eloquently, "my God, this is one man's life." I thought "this is it. It's what you make of it."

With this realization my life broke in half. One half of my life was thrown forward as I watched the old me fall and drift out into oblivion. My mind told me to catch it before I lost it but my heart told me to let go. The people that I thought I mattered to me most were suddenly no where to be found and new people began to step into their place and still do such. It didn't bother me though; this happened when my Grandmother died as well. The only real difference is that when she passed I was lucky enough to have been in school where there was a plethora of people in one single environment. Now I have to force myself to go out into the world and seek the good experiences and good people for myself by myself. A tough tough thing to do for someone with an avoidant personality.

I have always been queen of "I was here first but you go ahead." I realize that I only take my fair share and that that share usually consists of an average slice. Nearly all of the time I know I deserve more and I know I deserve better than what I am left with. I don't know where I got that from but I can no longer stand this part of my personality. All I know is looking into my Grandfather's eyes (the brown had faded into navy from all the pain and drugs he was on) he recognized me. The pride that he held for me all his life was still there and he tried to lift himself up to hug me. Unfortunately he was wracked with too much pain to do so. I still feel in awe that this man loved me that much when I don't even think I love myself that much yet. And yes, I do think there is something wrong with that last sentence. I didn't recognize myself reflected in his eyes. I am forever proud of my Grandfather and grateful to him and proud to be his Granddaughter. I know now my dedication will be to capture once and for all, all of the potential and love he saw in me.