Finally. A goodbye.

Today, we put my grandpa in the ground. I did. My dad and I knelt on the ground and lowered the small box of ashes into the ground.

I don't even know what to feel or think about that.

It was a four-hour trip to Pennsylvania. My dad drove, battling through the rain that threatened to invite danger.

Finally, we reached our destination. It was a little cemetery, with family buried there. We waited until my grandma, aunt, and cousins arrived.

Reluctantly, I walked over to the grave stones. There, in front of me stood the newest grave stone. Something in me gave.

It was my grandpa's.

It was a year ago, May 8, 2012. My grandpa died in a nursing home with all of us around. I'll never forget it. Or him. He loved me. He never cared about all the problems I gave him. He never cared about my past. He cared about now. That I was his grandson. That is why I never left him without his prayer.

I snapped back to reality when it was time to put the ashes into the ground. No one expected me to do this. To be honest, I was scared.

But I realized that this was the end. His ashes were all that remained in this world. This was the closest I would ever get to feeling his embrace again. No memory or dream would ever change that. He was gone and so was part of my heart.

I wanted to be strong. So strong. The day my grandpa died, I never cried. I saved it all, not wanting to give in.

But it hurt, as it did today. And for the first time, I am at a loss for words.

My sister said it well. She cried because she missed him.

"I don't want to say his name anymore," she sobbed.

My mom asked, "Who?"

Then my sister said, "The one I loved."

With that, the rain poured down.

I don’t know what else to say. It hurts. I hate it, because it controls me.

I guess that's what grief is; it is love's pained departure.

If possible, I would spend one more minute with him.


© 2013 Isaiah P. Henn, all rights reserved. 
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