On grief:

"I never did anything specific to cope or even externalize any of what I had been feeling. At one point near the end, sitting in the ER waiting room with my Mom, I finally exploded emotionally. I am not sure I have ever cried like that since I was a pup. Uncontrollable sobbing and the whole deal. I don't think I could have stopped it if I tried. Some of it was finally admitting ‘defeat’ and the other was lament for the wonderful person, my Dad, whose days on this Earth were winding down." -random user on Reddit

It's hard to find someone who's willing to believe in you no matter what, no matter how much you've fucked up, no matter how many false starts, no matter how unpopular the idea is, as much as my grandfather. I've taken to carrying around this greeting card he wrote me.. It was probably one of the last cards he wrote anyone. The handwriting is shaky and uneven and I can imagine him sitting there at his living room table concentrating on getting the words out with his arthritic hands that never cooperated. He wrote about how much he believed in me, and how proud he was that I was finishing school despite the obstacles. He told me how good it would feel to graduate knowing that I had completed this promise I made to him completely on my own. He even made a jab at my sibling who has received "everything on a silver platter." We bonded over ridiculing the holier-than-thou sector of the family, the parent and child team who pray together, vote together, and feel morally superior together. We both saw through the BS, and I am going to dearly miss the knowing glances he sent my way over holiday meals, when the subject inevitably turned to politics.

It just kills me because you don't just find people that beam with happiness when they speak of you. Typically, you are born and there are a finite number of people that will be truly happy that you are alive, and marvel at your development as a human being. These people dwindle as you get older, and if you don't find new people to love you, then you are alone by middle age typically. What a thought. I miss that twinkle in his blue eyes (which he didn't pass down to any one of us, damn those recessive traits) when he saw me, I miss so many tiny things that remind me every day that he is gone. I am constantly taken surprise by the persistent ways he sneaks into my mind just to say hey, don't forget me. I cry every time, but will continue to wait on a day where I am content to smile and go on with my day.