"Yes, He Died"

"Yes, he died."

How do you explain it?

Getting a call two days after Christmas from a Grandmother who is too stunned to feel anything.
News of a Grandfather who has collapsed due to a heart problem.
News of a silent heart attack the week before, unknown until the emergency heart surgery meant to save his life.
News of extensive damage to a heart already strained from the heart attack ten years ago and the resulting triple-bypass.
Twenty-four hours of prayer for a miracle that no one believes will come.
Getting a phone call in the evening with news of steady organ failure, beginning with the lungs.
News of a countdown with no chance to say goodbye.
Waking at 5:30am to news that at 1:30am the world-as-it-was ended forever.
A plane ride the day before New Year's Eve.
A funeral on a cold, snowy winter day instead of the planned New Year's Eve dinner at a restaurant and opening belated Christmas presents with Grandparents.
A funeral with over one hundred people flying and driving in on New Year's Eve from across the country with three days notice.
Opening Christmas presents with the notes written in his handwriting.
A plane flight back on New Year's Day.
The return to school where the question remains "How was your break?"
The choice to avoid the question or share the bitter truth.
The looks of pity, sympathy, unease, and discomfort at the truth.
The obvious desire to seek shelter in safer discourse or distance.
The attempt to soothe, pacify, and make better with empty words.
The passage of time in which people ignore, forget, move on.
The lingering tears and pain that make it impossible to do so.
The tears and anger in private to protect the delicate sensibilities of others.
The reality of a Grandmother widowed after fifty-two years.
The memories of a beloved Husband, Father, Grandfather, and Friend.

Yes, I lost my grandfather. Me. Not some other person, me. My Grandfather. Not a stranger or a pet. A man who shaped my world and my dreams, who I am and what I will be.Do not tell me that he is in a better place. Do not tell me that he will always be with me. Do not tell me that he is happy now. And do not tell me that he is saddened that I cry for him. It is not your place to say such things. It is not now and will never be. Let me mourn for him in peace. Let me mourn the loss of one that I loved deeply, that I miss fervently, that I cherish daily. Let me cry my tears of anger and rage at his loss. Let me weep for the moments that he will not share, that he will not see, that he will not know of. Let me be sad, angry, hurt, and afraid. Let me be.

Let me be.


Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

Emily Dickinson