When my grandpa passed away my whole entire family was grieving his death, but everywhere I looked I remembered the memories of him. I too, was also grieving, but I couldn’t help but laugh inside, thinking about everything that had happened over the sixteen years that I had with him. He left no final words or any final guidance, but the memories he left replace everything.
Thinking back about the memories makes me still laugh to this day. Whenever I happen to get the chance to visit the lake house where my grandparents lived, the memories just shine like the stars in the night sky. They are there to help me and my family get through the hard times. He had an itty bitty boat that he used to take out onto the lake, and I would always worry about the bigger boats capsizing his tiny boat. He had a cherished plum tree that he would pick the fruit and taste them to check for perfection, and I wonder how that plant is doing sometimes.
Whenever I think of him and become upset about his passing, I remember all the memories that we had together. They are the glue that kept me together through that hard time and still today when the anniversary of death comes and goes. They are the simple memories that I remember, such as catching catfish, and he would always make me at least once unhook my own fish, even though I would beg for him to do it. He would be the first to rise, always humming some kind of tune and would head to his juicer and have fresh orange juice; never would it come from the container.
Even though my grandma sold the house and moved away I still can see the memories in the furniture. Like the old table that sits in the dining room, that he would always fuss at because it would never allow him to put the leaf in without giving him a hard time. I am not the one in my family who sets the table, so whenever I would set it wrong, he would be the one for the hundredth time to re-teach me over and over again. Sometimes the memories can be forgotten and that is where pictures have come in handy. They are there to capture the memories that may have slipped away from the mind.
Grief is something that is hard to overcome, but the memories help to soften the grief just a bit. It helps me to know that just because I can’t remember the sound of his voice, the memories are always there and they can never be taken away. I believe in memories not grief, and that is something that I will always cherish
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