Recently while talking to someone about Christmas in correlation with death I said, "It still hurts to know that somebody's missing, but it gets easier to handle." This seems true for me even if it is not universal. The pain changes, yet it still hurts. At first, when it finally hit me, the pain of losing my Grandpa was sharp. It tore at the fabric of my life. It made things feel 'off.'
Now the pain is a dull throb that every-once-in-a-while becomes something more. It's a subtle ache that doesn't always necessarily hurt but always makes me remember him. Sometimes though the pain becomes sharp again. Something scratches at the scar caused by my Grandpa's passing. I had one of those moments last night.
My grandpa and I, forever ago, started to watch the one season show named Firefly. Last night I finally watched the last episode. It was... hard. The show is simply delightful and thus I really did want to watch it. However, it hurt because I just missed him, the one who got me started on it.
The show was lovely. It was very worthwhile. I really did love it. What I loved most though is that afterward, I was able to feel at peace. The whole thing made me ache for my Grandpa, but in the end I was able to be happy that my Grandpa was able to introduce me to some of my favorite TV-show characters ever. Sure I sobbed for a minute there in between finishing and feeling peace but I was able to feel happy afterward.
I miss him. I hurt sometimes because I wish this life still had him in it. However, I am so grateful I was able to know him like I did. I am grateful for the time we were able to have, and the fact that I loved him because I knew him, not just because he's family. Like one of my friends quoted to me: "Say not in grief 'he is no more,' but live in thankfulness that he was."
I am grateful I had him. I am so grateful for those I know and have in my life now. I will still feel grief over not having my Grandpa to write and laugh with. However I believe I shall see him again; until then, I am glad that I knew him.