Grandpa,
It hasn’t been very long since you left, and I’m still upset about it. I’m upset that you left me when you did because there were so many things I wanted you to still see. Maksim playing basketball. My wedding. My first big promotion. A sunrise from my balcony above the city. A night out with Kathryn and grandma Gail where we would just eat and have a great time together. The list is truly endless, and I’m sorry that I didn’t do more to make those things happen while I still could.
Regardless of how much time I spent with you, I always felt like I didn’t get enough time, and that upsets me too. You always made me leave the lakes with you earlier than I wanted. You would make me go back and mow over the spots of your yard that I missed, after you came out and inspected my work after I was finished before you’d pay me for it. You would always pause for as long as I talked, after I stopped talking and interrupting you, before you’d continue speaking to me. I never liked that much, but now I understand why you did it, and I thank you for that.
It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t be there the morning of the procedure. I was exhausted from putting so much of myself into my work for our big presentation. I know that you would have told me that it was ok that I couldn’t be there, and that it was important for me to be there for my job, but I didn’t know that would be my final opportunity to hear your voice. To share one last joke with you. To tell you something, anything, that would have made things make sense later. To hear one last bit of your incredibly wise advice for me. I promise I always heard your words, even if I didn’t always follow them.
I can’t see your face anymore, but I see you all the time. I see you in my son when he tells me that the pepper on his eggs will put lead in his pencil. I see you in myself, when I make sure my ears are really clean, in order to let the bullshit people spew out go in one ear and right out the other. I see you in the early morning sunrise, and imagine you telling me that it’s almost lunch time when the sun is just coming up. I see you in the way I don’t drink coffee, because you said it would stunt my growth, and also in the way that I’m not 7 feet tall, even though I used to tell you I wanted to be. I see you in the man I am today.
You weren’t supposed to go so soon. You weren’t supposed to be called home like you were. But, I’m grateful and thankful for the things you have left behind. And, thank you for the sunrise today.
I needed it more than anyone will ever know.
I miss you Grandpa, but I hope you’re working hard up there.
Love,
T-boo
The Pursuit of Somebodyness 