My great-grandpa passed away this morning.
This is the first time I've experienced the death of someone blood-related to me. I don't exactly understanding how I'm reacting. I'm crying when I explain or when I'm singing to songs that don't even relate to what's going on. But not each time someone reminds me that he's gone, not when I see my mom or grandma teary-eyed because he's no longer here, not when I'd have thought I'd be set off.
Then again, maybe I don't need to understand. I'm just letting my emotions do whatever they want. I'm not trying to be strong or weak or anything. It's like my emotions are manifesting just as they need to, on their own, regardless of whether it makes sense to me.
What I do understand is that my great-grandfather is at peace now. I'm grateful for that. I'm also thankful that I was able to leave him last with a kiss on his forehead. I don't have anything to regret with him.
You didn't talk to him much because you were never so confident in your Spanish fluency. He was always happy to hear you greet him, anyway. For as little as you spoke to him, he liked you. I'm glad that you can remember him just like that. That's one of the points in his life that I like to think about. Thank you for helping to give that to him.
