I'm 29 years old. I've never lost anyone close to me. My grandmother passed when I was seven. I don't recall much of that time.
Friday, November 14th, 2008... at approximately 5pm eastern... my grandfather took his last breath. It was devastating. I was crushed. Growing up, my father wasn't around except when he'd pick my sister and I up for our Christmas vacation and then for another week during our summer off from school. So my grandfather was the only father figure in my life during my childhood years. My mother remarried when I was about 10, but there was no way my step-father could step in at that age and be the father I needed... my grandpa already did that long before I was ten.
My sister tells me how she hopes I'm wrong about what happens after death. She wants our grandparents to be able to be with each other now. I tell her that it doesn't matter how comforting a thought is... that doesn't make it true. We can agree that they are together now... one way or another. After almost 22 years without his wife, my grandfather now rests right beside her in the dirt below their shared headstone.
It has only been 10 days since he died. It doesn't even seem real. I don't know how I would know if it seemed real, even... but it just seems like it hasn't sunk in yet. However, I feel amazingly at peace with the situation. The most important man who will ever be a part of my life is gone. And while it hurts... it's okay. He went quickly. He didn't struggle or suffer. He had no pain. He went quietly. That's all I could possibly ask for.
Part of me does hate the inevitable words of comfort that some offer. "He's in a better place now. He's with your grandma. He's looking down on you." For some reason, all those supernatural comfort attempts just irk me.
Will my world shatter once again when this all sinks in? Has it sunk in as much as it is going to?