Dear Elizabeth,
We had the absolute best Grandpa in the world. Sounds
cliché, doesn’t it? But I really mean it. Every second of the day he’d do
anything he could to either entertain or make someone laugh. He was a great
husband, father, son, and friend. You, grandpa, and I had a movie-perfect
granddaughter and grandfather relationship. When I say movie-perfect I mean relationships
you’d see in the movies. Always laughing, going places together, playing games.
He was like our best friend. Grandma and grandpa had just moved right across
the street from us and it was the ultimate child’s dream.
When you’re a kid you always couldn’t wait until the day
that you get to spend at grandma and grandpa’s house. Well, we had them just
across the street and could walk right over whenever our heart desired. The three of us had a special game we’d
always love to play, no one else could play with us. Every time we played it,
it ended with us laughing from the gut and barley being able to breathe. The
point of the game is for him to find the two of us around the house. He’d take
of his glasses and pretend he was completely blind and go around the house
“blindly” walking around, acting as if he couldn’t see a thing! Once he found
us after a good 20 minutes of searching, he’d scoop us into his arms and tickle
us until we couldn’t take it anymore.
I embraced every one of those tickles, but it never occurred
to me that one day those tickles and laughs with grandpa would have to go. Go
to some place better. He passed away when I was five and you were 8. We were
too young to lose such a close friend . It took me until after his funeral to
really get upset about his death because, there were so many people trying to
talk to me and hug me that I didn’t even have the time to think of what had
happened in the past week. The feeling kept me numb on both the inside and out.
It went by so quickly once we brought in all of the flowers, cards, and gifts
from the car it was time to release the feelings I’ve been holding in for what
feels like forever.
When I say forever, I mean it. The accident helped me get
through losing grandpa, but grief is forever. The pain never leaves and the
memories are engraved into my mind like our little hand prints in the cement on
the sidewalk. Seeing those hand prints make me cringe, thinking of us swinging
and laughing. When I look at the hand print I see you in a car being tossed
like a rag doll. I see shards of glass from the wind shield being thrown around
you. Then I see you in a hospital bed with wires on your chest, oxygen tubes in
your nose and scars on your right side were the car hit you. I still grieve for
grandpa and that part of you that I lost, but proceed to carry on. Ever since
his passing I feel like death is an ugly dog following me at my feet, waiting
to attack. Waiting to swallow me whole, eating away at me until I collapse.
Until I snap back into focus and think about how you wouldn’t want me in this
misery and I go on with my life. Carrying on and helping you fight through your
injuries. That was one of grandpa’s expertise. He would give the best lectures
and speeches. I really hope someday you will remember him again and the love he
shared with us.
I don’t really know
what pushed me to write to you about grandpa but I thought that since we found
that your memory is gone you would like to re-learn the special things about
your family. Having to remind you of my name or feed you hurts. It makes me
feel like I should be the one in the wheel chair. The day of the accident was a
stupid mistake that I blame myself for. I was screaming and laughing and
bugging mom, it’s not her fault she lost control of the wheel. Even though you
are like a different person now, I know that somewhere Liz is there smiling.
With
all of my love,
Rebecca
