I wont blame you if you don't want to read all of this
I'm 22 years old, and I was raised by my grandparents. On May 14, 2004 my grandfather passed away. It was a horrible tragedy in my life that shook my world. We were very close. I had just started high school, and I hadn't been around the house as much as I used to. He had been in and out of the hospital for months, but my whole life he was always going to the hospital whether it be because of health problems or routine doctor's appointments or what have you (he was a Vietnam Vet who suffered from diabetes and was a double amputee), so in my mind I suppose it was always routine. I mean, he always came home from the hospital.
Maybe a week before he passed away I had been visiting him with my family. My Aunt was in tears so I knew something was wrong, but I never heard anyone talk about it. At the time, it seemed to be a fairly routine visit to see Grandpa. I remember, when we were getting ready to leave, he looked at me and said, "I love you son". Being the typical teenager I was, I simply responded with "Okay". I had always been like that; never really verbalizing intimate feelings like that. I wanted to say I love you too
but I just didn't. I said goodbye and followed the rest of my family from his room.
Fast-forward to maybe a week or so later. I had been at my girlfriend's house all day. I think I ended getting home around 10pm or so. I walked into the living room and my mom was sitting there along with my brother and sister (she lived with us). She told me to sit down. Then she told me that Grandpa had died earlier that day. I was stunned. Absolutely speechless. Staring straight ahead with tears running down my cheeks. She put her arms around me and said, "I know you're gonna miss him. I'm gonna miss him too."
The next seven years are sort of a blur. I started smoking cigarettes, marijuana, drinking, and pretty much whatever I could get my hands on (never hard drugs though). It started slow, but as time went on I guess I was just doing more and more often. Nobody really knows this, but I think about my grandfather and my life back then and cry at least twice a week, usually at night before I fall asleep. I haven't talked about this to anybody, save my mom once when I was very drunk and she picked me up from a friend's house. I was in tears. And that was a few weeks ago. We haven't talked about it since.
I know this is long, and I apologize thoroughly for that. But I just feel like maybe it's time to talk to somebody about this. Words cant express how much I love and miss my grandfather. I still find it hard to believe he's gone sometimes. I don't know how much posting this will help me, if at all, but at least I'm letting some of it out into the universe; I've kept it locked tight inside my head for a very long time. I don't know if I'm depressed, or just sad, or what. I just know that I'm tearing myself up. I never told him how much I loved him. I never got to say goodbye. And to top it all off, for the last few months of his life I wasn't always there the way I used to be before I started getting active in high school. In all honesty, I don't think there's much to be done about it. I know the past can't be changed, and this murky grief feels all too permanent. In a way, I want it to be. I never want to forget anything about him. He meant the world to me.
Wow look at me. I could go on for pages and pages. I don't know if this is a confession or a plea for help or just a rant, but I'm going to let it end her. If you've gotten this far, thank you. Thank you for just letting me spill my heart to you.