(no subject)
My birthday was yesterday. I left work a little early to go do some shopping at the mall, picked up some Godiva, browsed through the apple store and the game stop. But I also had to pick up some dress clothes, as my grandfather died on Monday morning.
He was a good man, in his nineties when he passed away, leaving behind many grand and great grand kids. He gave me his car for Christmas in 2004, too bad it got trashed by the hurricane 8 months later. He saw my grandmother through many, many years of illness, and I was glad that he managed to die in his sleep completely healthy. Except for that hernia he was going to go to the doctor about on Monday. We were never exceedingly close, I was always my grandmother's favorite, but he always made time to call me on special occasions, and he never missed my birthday. Especially the year that it was overshadowed by my sister's wedding.
He was Italian in the truest sense of the word. If he wasn't surrounded by friends and family constantly, he was obviously not truly living. He made friends everywhere he went, and there were more than a few lady friends that had their eyes on him at the retirement home. He was a kind man.
As I'm sitting here, typing this out, letting everyone know in ways I can't convey over the phone, I feel the pain of really missing him. I feel regret in not going to more family get-togethers simply because my cousin and I do not get along. I feel regret in leaving behind the car he gave me just before the hurricane of 2005 because I didn't have the gas money to bring it. I'm sad that the last time we were together, I didn't get a chance to really talk to him, since I was helping my sister out with her Christmas Eve party.
But I hope that he knew that I treasured the times we spent at the camp in New Orleans East for every holiday up until my late teens. That I was happy he could make it to my High School Graduation and the phone call he made to me after I graduated college. That even though I was terrified of the noises that were made around the campsite the night we decided to sleep over, that I really did like the breakfast he bought me and my cousin the next day. That I really did think that my Grandmother protected him from sickness and unhappiness, even when she had passed on before him. That the tears I shed in secret are for missing him and that I've always loved him without regret, without expectation.
He was a good man, in his nineties when he passed away, leaving behind many grand and great grand kids. He gave me his car for Christmas in 2004, too bad it got trashed by the hurricane 8 months later. He saw my grandmother through many, many years of illness, and I was glad that he managed to die in his sleep completely healthy. Except for that hernia he was going to go to the doctor about on Monday. We were never exceedingly close, I was always my grandmother's favorite, but he always made time to call me on special occasions, and he never missed my birthday. Especially the year that it was overshadowed by my sister's wedding.
He was Italian in the truest sense of the word. If he wasn't surrounded by friends and family constantly, he was obviously not truly living. He made friends everywhere he went, and there were more than a few lady friends that had their eyes on him at the retirement home. He was a kind man.
As I'm sitting here, typing this out, letting everyone know in ways I can't convey over the phone, I feel the pain of really missing him. I feel regret in not going to more family get-togethers simply because my cousin and I do not get along. I feel regret in leaving behind the car he gave me just before the hurricane of 2005 because I didn't have the gas money to bring it. I'm sad that the last time we were together, I didn't get a chance to really talk to him, since I was helping my sister out with her Christmas Eve party.
But I hope that he knew that I treasured the times we spent at the camp in New Orleans East for every holiday up until my late teens. That I was happy he could make it to my High School Graduation and the phone call he made to me after I graduated college. That even though I was terrified of the noises that were made around the campsite the night we decided to sleep over, that I really did like the breakfast he bought me and my cousin the next day. That I really did think that my Grandmother protected him from sickness and unhappiness, even when she had passed on before him. That the tears I shed in secret are for missing him and that I've always loved him without regret, without expectation.