On My Pop-Pop

I’m not really sure how to begin this, so I’ll just go right into it. My grandfather passed away exactly two weeks ago, and I was right there when it happened. In the immediate moments after his passing was the only time that I wept. In these moments I remember asking myself why I was crying, but recall the immense power that the tears had over me. I refused to let myself cry the whole time I was there, because I was there. I truly felt that God had enabled me to be there for my grandfather’s passing, that he had allowed my grandfather to live until his two daughters and his grandchildren (my mother, aunt, sister and I, who had all attended my graduation commencement two days earlier), could be there by his side. I was grateful to be there, and for the life that my grandfather had lived. He was a great and joy-filled man. With his white beard, he will always remind me of a jolly St. Nick, just as giving and loving as the revered saint. At the services after his death, I felt welts of tears come, but these were for those who would miss him the most, my mother, my aunt and uncle, and my dear sweet young cousins who got to spend time with him almost daily. I was sorry that they had to lose a part of their lives that was much bigger than the part that I lost. But I will always remember the moment that I had at the foot of his bed as he passed away. I may have wondered why I was crying when this great man was leaving this world for a better place, where he would no longer have to suffer, but I can realize now I was allowing myself to cry for myself, because it was the moment I lost MY grandfather, a person who I dearly cared for and will always miss. Now I can only vow to live up to him in the joy that he brought, and hope that the rest of the world will follow in his footsteps.