Who teaches you to say goodbye?
Today, March 2nd, I lost the man who acted as a father for the first ten years of my life. The man who held my hand through most of my firsts. He taught me to laugh loudly and smile proudly. And honestly, I’m angry. I’m upset that he won’t be there to watch the person I hope to become for him. I’m angry that, for some reason, it was decided that we had had enough time. I knew it was never going to be enough time for us. I just didn’t think our clock would stop ticking this soon.
us.
My grandfather was the most lively person I’ve had the pleasure of encountering. He has friends in the darkest corners of this Earth, and he moved through his life in a way one could only look up to. He’s a big reason I am the way I am today and the blueprint of someone I hope to become.
Even when he knew that we were working against the clock, he made plans. Because my grandfather was not one to dwell in sadness or let tens of tumors eat him up. He made plans for us to go swimming in Porto and visit the little town in Italy where he grew up. That was the last promise we made to each other, I guess now it’s just mine to uphold.
So what do you do now? When a piece of you is gone how do you rebuild the puzzle? I’m not sure about this one. At least not yet.
It seems that no words are good enough and no memories can fill the void left behind when you lose somebody. The dreaded phone call comes in, and your world stops spinning. Suddenly, the only person who could help you up is the one who's left you behind.
I keep being asked if I’m okay. I probably will be. I don’t think I’ve processed that the next time I set foot on that island, he won’t be there to run to. I’m afraid I’ll ever stop searching for him.
I guess all you can do is hold those who are still around a little tighter for a little longer and try to make the ones who left us proud, hoping that they’re up there looking in.
Baci e abbracci abuelo
Something from a few weeks ago
our song
