Recently in my English class at school, we read a blog post a man wrote about his father who had recently passed away. We then had to write an emotional piece on someone we know or knew. I wrote mine about my Dad and I might post it here someday.
But that's not why I'm telling you about the class. I'm telling you because a girl in my class wrote her piece about her Granddad and a week on I still can't get it out of my head. Her Granddad has passed away and she spoke of how tall he used to be to her, how strong and powerful he was and as she grew older, she got taller, her Granddad aged, became less powerful.
The thing that really made me feel as if there was a fist clenching around my heart was when she talked about when he got sick, how she felt that surely if you loved someone enough, your love should be able to keep them alive, if she loved her Granddad as much as she did, how could he possibly be taken away from her? I'll put my hand up and say that yes, I was crying, because she'd hit the nail squarely on the head.
Another reason for my writing this post is that yesterday marked the 27th anniversary of my Granddad's death and the 7th anniversary of my Nana's death. No, you didn't read those figures wrong, they did pass away on the same day twenty years apart. I'm not a strong person of faith, I'm far too interested in Science if I'm honest but I do believe that there is something after death, maybe just to deal with losing people, the thought that they're gone forever, into the ground and that's it is far too real, too final. It was very comforting to think that Granddad had come to take Nana with him, that they were together and she would be happy. I never got the chance to meet my Granddad and if I was ever given a wish it'd definitely be to spend even just a day with the man I've heard so many fond stories about.
My Nana on the other hand was so incredibly special to me. I have so many happy memories with her, dancing with her, listening to her warble old songs, spending Christmas in her house where dinner was like clock work every day. Seven years on and as I type this I still tear up. Grief has this weird way of never fully leaving you, it'll creep up on you when you're least expecting it and make you feel the pain all over again. I know the saying goes "Time heals all wounds," but I don't think it ever really does.
I think that yes, of course you can move on with your life and keep going, God knows you have to. But I also think that when someone you love so fiercely leaves you and you can't do anything to stop it from happening, even if you gave up your own life for theirs, that a part of your "soul" is forever tainted with missing them and you have to grow accoustomed to it. That's life.
But that's not why I'm telling you about the class. I'm telling you because a girl in my class wrote her piece about her Granddad and a week on I still can't get it out of my head. Her Granddad has passed away and she spoke of how tall he used to be to her, how strong and powerful he was and as she grew older, she got taller, her Granddad aged, became less powerful.
The thing that really made me feel as if there was a fist clenching around my heart was when she talked about when he got sick, how she felt that surely if you loved someone enough, your love should be able to keep them alive, if she loved her Granddad as much as she did, how could he possibly be taken away from her? I'll put my hand up and say that yes, I was crying, because she'd hit the nail squarely on the head.
Another reason for my writing this post is that yesterday marked the 27th anniversary of my Granddad's death and the 7th anniversary of my Nana's death. No, you didn't read those figures wrong, they did pass away on the same day twenty years apart. I'm not a strong person of faith, I'm far too interested in Science if I'm honest but I do believe that there is something after death, maybe just to deal with losing people, the thought that they're gone forever, into the ground and that's it is far too real, too final. It was very comforting to think that Granddad had come to take Nana with him, that they were together and she would be happy. I never got the chance to meet my Granddad and if I was ever given a wish it'd definitely be to spend even just a day with the man I've heard so many fond stories about.
My Nana on the other hand was so incredibly special to me. I have so many happy memories with her, dancing with her, listening to her warble old songs, spending Christmas in her house where dinner was like clock work every day. Seven years on and as I type this I still tear up. Grief has this weird way of never fully leaving you, it'll creep up on you when you're least expecting it and make you feel the pain all over again. I know the saying goes "Time heals all wounds," but I don't think it ever really does.
I think that yes, of course you can move on with your life and keep going, God knows you have to. But I also think that when someone you love so fiercely leaves you and you can't do anything to stop it from happening, even if you gave up your own life for theirs, that a part of your "soul" is forever tainted with missing them and you have to grow accoustomed to it. That's life.
