I don’t know how to start a blog like this, so I’ll just say it, plain and simple: My grandpa died this morning. My mom came into my room before I was even up for school and told me. And the fact is, I knew. The second she came in, I knew. And my family was prepared for it. He’s been sick for awhile now. But that still doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone. 

All day, I’ve been thinking of the things he did with me, and the memories he’s been a part of. I remember him playing the bugle at my uncle’s wedding rehearsal dinner, telling us dinner was ready. I remember his fascination with all things in nature, how he taught me to identify every bird that landed in my backyard. I remember him playing catch with me, and playing games with me, and letting me cheat, so I’d win and we’d go out for Friendly’s. I realized that I will never have another birthday where he’s doo-wopping in the background while my grandma’s trying to sing. I’ll never ride in his boat with him, screaming at the top of our lungs, while we get smacked in the face with mist because we’re going so fast. I’ll never be able to go to North Carolina again, without thinking about him. Without missing him. 

And I know he’s been sick, and that we all knew that he’s been dying. I know he’s in a better place, and that it’s only goodbye for a little while. I know he’s not sick anymore, and that he’s not in pain anymore. I know all this. But I still miss him. And I know that I posted on facebook, all cheery, and happy. But this is where my real emotion is. And all I know is that I miss him. I just miss him, and I can do nothing but miss him. 

I keep telling myself that at least I got to say goodbye. At least I was able to hug him one last time in Puerto Rico and tell him that I love him so much. Some people don’t even get that, and I’m so grateful that I had that chance. 

Grandpa, if you’re up there, and you can somehow see this, I just need you to know that I still love you, and I will miss you every day that you are gone. I’ll miss you’re practical jokes, and you’re insistence on eating pizza in the pizzeria, because that’s where it’s the freshest. I will miss you’re stubborn loyalty to anything you knew was right. I’ll miss you hiding candy in “the good spots.” I’ll miss it all. It’s only goodbye for a little while, and I’ll see you soon. 

I love you a bushel and a peck.