The more time that passes since my Grandfather's death, the less I can remember about him. I can still hear his voice in my head, but his face is starting to blur and memories of early morning breakfasts with him are fading and yellowing with time. I miss him. I don't think there has been a day since Jan. 25th, 1999 that I haven't thought of him at least once. It's funny in a macabre kind of way - I remember thinking out the order in which I was ready for my grandparents to die and he was always last. He was the last person I ever wanted to die and yet, he was the first to go. I'm still not ready to live in a world where he doesn't. That's not to say I don't live my life to its fullest - that would be a travesty and an insult to his memory. I just find myself pausing quite often and thinking of how much I would love to share what's happening in my life. He'd be 83 now if he were still around. I know he's not my dad, but in so many ways he was. He was the man I grew up worshipping and believing he could do no wrong. He's the man I cuddled and watched movies with, drank rootbeer floats with and went for drives around the lake with. I still go for a drive around the lake every time I'm home just so I can keep up the tradition and pretend he's with me. I miss him every day and the pain of his death still stings to the quick at times. Like tonight.
My birthday week has been such a wonderful week - I've been calling it my birthday fortnight though since it's been stretched out over the last 2 weeks. I got to talk to J last night online for an hour. It was what I needed and I really miss him. Long distance relationships really do suck like none other, but with him I know it's worth the pain and lonesome-ness for him. I know what the end result should be and that's comforting. Granted, I'm not one to take everything in between for granted. I love the journey. I love dreaming about how it's all going to happen and the excitement I get from not knowing. :)
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