Grandpa, I miss you.
Since the day I was born my grandparents have been a huge part of who I am and my life. They came for ever birhtday, pre-school graduation, dance competitions, babysitting, Christmas. They are a part of who I am. My grandpa was this man that I loved, he knew the way straight into my heart. I would fall asleep on his chest, and he would give me "surgery" when I would get slivers on my toes from running on his deck. He would hold my hand and help me set up for Santa Claus and make sure Santa and the reigndeer had food. We would walk on the ocean together and he wore the same kind of white shirt everyday. He was a marine and every memorial day they would do a military honor. And i would always watch. And run after the brass dropped from the bullets. He would make me his famous hot cakes. The best pancakes in the world. He would hold my hand as we walked down to this little cafe down the street, we would buy me breakfast while he had coffee with his buddies. We would sit and watch the trains and then walk to the post office to get the mail. I loved it. This little town is the best place in the world. I loved him and looked up to him. I loved watching him out in his garden, his vegetables tasted so much better than the store bought. I was always so proud and happy that I could tell people, the neighbor kids and my friends that yes!! That was was MY grandpa. Last November, he fell and broke his hip. He couldnt walk for months but I had so much hope that he would pull out of it. He had remained weak from his open heart surgery but was still a strong beautifull man. I went to visit him in the nursing home after the accdient and his brain was so off. He thought my arm was his waterbottle. As time went on he got weaker and skinnier. I was watching him die. When my mom told me they had called Hospice, and we were going to say our goodbyes. I was broken. He last words to me were I love you baby and that my brother and I made life for him. He lived about three weeks after that. I stil had so much hope that he was going to pull through and I was going to get one more goodbye. I never did. I found out he died on February 2nd, i balled. His house is dead without him, I feel like apart of me died with him. I dream about him. I dream he is back and happy and strong. I wake up beyond happy, smiling with tears because HES BACK!! and then every morning I have to remind myself that he is gone. It's like reliving his death everyday. I miss falling asleep on his chest and holding his hands and telling him how beautiful his blue eyes were. I miss seeing his face, I miss hearing his voice. And I kick myself everyday because when I was teen, I wanted to sleep in and I didn't go to that little cafe with him as often. And I kill myself knowingn how many more times I could have told my beautiful grandpa, I love you. I know he knows but how many more moments I could have been with you. Grandpa held such a special place in my heart. YOu were everything to me. I cry everyday and although its been almost four weeks since the day he died, and three weeks since the funeral. I still feel broken, I still cry everday. I dont feel the same. I feel like apart of me died with him. I want more than anything to hold him again, and I can't. I'm broken without him. I try to put on a brave face everyday but I'm not the same and i'm still broken. I'm fifteen, and without my grandpa.