My grandparents passed away over 15 years ago. I lost them, the ones I knew, each a year apart. I remember being distraught, crying daily, feeling as if my world would not be the same. Any little thing would set off an emotional outburst. Driving by their old apartment, shopping at a supermarket I used to shop with them at. Not stepping on sidewalk cracks as my grandfather taught me, for luck.
I hardly remember their faces, can’t recall the sounds of their voices. And on occassion I get a whiff of Old Spice or Colonia and remember some moment shared. It’s hard to not get teary eyed.
But, I think despite the fact that memory seems to fade, I honor them every day. I live my life soundly and carry with me things they taught me. I live with the respect for life they instilled in me. I strive to be the person they wanted me to be, the person they helped to mold, and that keeps them with me. Always.
(Kelley, no te preocupes, my Abuelos are there for your Gramps, and he’s in good hands.)