We never spent enough time together. We were meant to have years creating memories with you. Taken away at an age where I didn’t understand what that meant, I kept being told to spend more time with you. We only had so long together so of course I shied away from it. It happened so suddenly. One moment you were okay, the next you were there for a short while before it was all over.
Your last days on earth were of silence – the nerve they touched stripped you of your ability to communicate with us. This saddened me most. I would babble away to you – in return I would receive a blank face. Your eyes though, they expressed so much that you couldn’t say – reflected back at me was understanding, love and sadness.
When you left us it was heartbreaking. I have never seen Mum so lifeless. I regret seeing you laying there at the church – I wish I could remove the image of it in my mind. It gave me nightmares for months. I felt so confused from them. Although it looked like you, I knew it wasn’t. This version was terrifying. The living you couldn’t be more further from that. You were calm no matter the situation and made others around you happy with your compassion.
For years I haven’t visited your grave. I am afraid. This year marks ten years Nonno. I think it is time to celebrate all that you were and not what you became. I feel okay talking about you now. With Mum is the best. You left at a time in my life when it was difficult to comprehend. Your death created me to lose faith in religion. I wonder how genuine a higher power is when all it does is take away loved ones.
I am trying to find balance, something to believe in to reflect how I see the world and afterlife. Regardless of what I believe, I hope wherever you are there is no pain or suffering, but peace and tranquility.