Tomorrow is the day we put you to rest. You won’t be our main focus. You won’t be our excuse. I’m afraid people will forget how important you are. I’m afraid I will forget what life was like with you.
I feel like I’m searching for sympathy when I call you my best friend or I tell people we were close. I feel like a hypocrite when I watch Grandma break down and say it will never be okay. I feel like I am the one who lost the most, but literally, I lost the least. I said a temporary goodbye to a man who I had for the developmental years of my life. He meant the world to me, and I to him, but I didn’t lose a life love, a husband, or a great father. I lost an extension of my soul I will once again regain.
In all honesty, saying goodbye was scary. It made me doubt my faith. It made me wonder if we are worshipping the one true God. It made me wonder if heaven is real. It caused all the doubts that I’ve never before had- that I’ve never before needed. Grampa, don’t get me wrong, I still believe Jesus is the only way. I still believe there is a heaven and you are there waiting on me, on Grandma, on everyone. If I didn’t believe, then I would have no peace.
Peace has shocked me by its presence. It is ever present, holding me, as if to say, “I promised I’d always be with you.” Is peace the role you play in heaven? Is it you holding my hand? Grandma needs some you, she needs some peace.
As I sit here talking to an absent person-soul, I wonder if you hear me. I wonder if you are still you and if you still love us. It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t. so, whether it be true or just a piece of my imagination, I will hold onto talking to you and believing you hear me. Even though I don’t hear your reply, I know what you’d say, which isn’t much. I love you, too.
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