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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1958636
Rated: E · Monologue · Young Adult · #1958636
Eulogy to my grandfather.


I'm sorry I could not be there in person, to see you off. Honestly, I think neither one of us wanted me to see the condition you were in. I know if I told you I cried myself to sleep almost every night over the loss of you, you'd probably give me some advice on how to move on, and stop being a baby. To man up and pick up the reigns.
I wish more than anything, that I could take your place and fill the void that's taken hold of our family. I want, ever so badly, to take over your role and bring us back together. I could never do that, the shoes are too large to fill and it takes a warmer heart and sharper mind.
Last summer, when I went down to Florida, it felt so empty. Nothing was right, the breeze had lost its gentle touch and the sun was no longer inviting, but bore down on me in such a way that I felt defeated constantly. When I arrived at the airport, my mother and Kathy burst into tears saying how much I look like you.
I must admit that made me both prideful and saddened just the same. I felt pride because everyone looked up to you and liked you. You were the life of the party. The glue to the family. I was saddened because I could never do that. Nothing's as good as the original. Even if I copied you in every single way, there would be that void.
A few days ago, we were asked to right a eulogy. I had a speech worked out, that I would of giving at your funeral, if I had gone. As I put pen to paper, I couldn't finish. Tears had fallen onto the sheets. Until that moment I hadn't acknowledged your passing.
I'm not good at writing, words cannot express what the heart and mind yearns to expose. It's but a rough estimation.
My last memories of you. I know are what you didn't want me to see. There was a deep bonding between us, which I could never explain. I guess that's because sometimes I'm like you. So we got each other and understood better than most. But that's only my opinion.
I went to your house to say my goodbye, seeing you in a hospital bed killed me. And I know you didn't want me to see you in pain. So, I went outside taking a BB gun and shot some cans while you watched.
If I told you I wasn't crying, I'd be a bigger liar than I already am. Because memories only do us harm. But it's good to cry, I've learned that. The last things you said to me we're " I can't wait to see you again, when you come back we'll go fishing, I love you and I'm proud. You're going to be something someday" I struggled typing that, I'm crying so hard.
I knew that wouldn't ever happen. I knew it before you said it, I could hear it in your voice. But it made me happy, I thought back to the time of when I was little and you taught me how to fish. And all the times we went.
When my mother called, I hoped it was good news. But life isn't fair to the men who do only kind things towards humanity. Before she said the words my heart sank. I never thought, ever, that you would go like that. I see it now, you wanted to give everyone one last piece of advice. One final lifelong lesson for all of us.
When people ask me who my grandfather was, I don't have enough words to express who you are. Words alone cannot express anything but sound, and that means nothing to a deaf ear.
I wish I could say we stuck together, that we'd always look out for each other and no harm would befall us. But the dates are twisted things, and the family broke like glass. What had brought us together again in the beginning, destroyed us in the end. It's no one’s fault but our own, we decide where we wish to go from here.
I'm still optimistic. Because I want to prove you right, I want to make you proud. I want to make us proud, everyone.
I use your advice every day. Of the two things you always said “life is good” and “Don't worry about nothing because nothing's never gonna be ok”. They’re almost the same; life is good because you make it that way. As for the latter, if you live life trying to be in constant control, fearing what’s out of your reach, is it really living?

I hope this makes sense to you all. It may not read as deep as what I felt inside, but anyone who suffered a loss can say what I have
© Copyright 2013 Frank Connary (pompahawk at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1958636