My calendar tells me that today is November 19th, 2016. 3,643 days. 9 years, 11 months, and 21 days since you left, and it doesn’t hurt any less. November 29th, 2006 was the day my heart broke and while I was glad to know you were no longer in pain, I still live with this numbing pain every day of my life.

Heaven doesn’t have a mailing address, but here’s a letter from your princess anyways.

Grandpa,

It’s been 3,643 days without you, and there have been so many times that I wanted nothing more than to find myself in one of your embraces. To hear you say “how’s my princess today?” I’ve missed your dry sense of humor, and you’d probably laugh at how I’ve come to be the same. Dad says I’m stubborn just like you, and Mom says Dad is too. I miss your smile, and your laugh, and the way your eyes would crinkle when you did either. Your eyes would light up like a “mischievous Santa,” as mom put it. It kills me that you weren’t there to watch me graduate high school, Grandma said you would’ve been so proud. I’m in my second year of college, Grandpa. I know, I know I’m getting old. I’m going for Occupational Therapy, I still want to change the world. I’m minoring in History and Political Science, Dad says it’d be entertaining to watch you and I debate: two strong willed, stubborn minds who could argue until we were blue in the face.

Dad really misses you, he doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he does. I’m so thankful that you raised him to be a great dad. I’m so thankful that you were a great grandpa, actually you still are. I know you visit when you can; the hand on my shoulder when I feel like giving up, the whisper in the wind when I’m alone, the blur of light in every photo, and the voice in my dreams. I know you were there that summer day when the truck hit us, I saw your face as the glass shattered in. The other weekend I know it was you that knocked that picture of our last name off the wall.

I’d do anything to have a conversation with you, Grandpa. I was too young to really appreciate your wisdom; how passionately you’d talk about things. What I wouldn’t give to just sit on the sofa with you for an hour. I still remember the night mom got you to eat vegetables in your lasagna, how you couldn’t even be mad because it “did taste good.” Mom says her fondest memory of you was watching the tears fill your eyes when you saw me for the first time, and it kills me to know that I’ll never get a chance to look into your eyes again. Dad fondly recalls how you would stop whatever you were doing for a random conversation, and how no matter your schedule for that day, you’d still treat the person like they were the most important person in the world.

So many birthdays, holidays, once in a lifetime moments, that you weren’t here for, at least not in the traditional sense. I know you were smiling down as I walked across that stage, I know you’re in my dorm room when I’m sobbing into my pillow, and I know if you would’ve had the choice you wouldn’t have left. As each day passes I become more convinced that when you left, you took a part of me, and I kept a part of you. To you, people had value and if there is one thing I strive to replicate, it’s that; you never treated anyone as an inferior. In times of love and joy, you’d say “stop, take in this moment, and remember it, because moments like these are few and far in between,” and that’s been my greatest lesson from you.

Grandpa, I love you, and I hope I’ve made you nothing but proud.

Love,

Your princess

“I promised him I wouldn't cry when it was his time to leave
That's the only promise I made him I couldn't keep
He smiled from his bed and said we'll meet again
Somewhere down the road
And I believe 'cause Grandpa told me so.”
|| “Grandpa Told Me So” Kenny Chesney