One of my friends grandfather passed away on the weekend. It hurts a little more for her because it was very unexpected. She is lucky to be in her 30th year and to only have just lost her first grandparent. I only have one left. I know she knows it, but I also know that right now is not the time to point it out.
I cooked for her and her family last night. It is a real country thing to do, but something that I felt the need for. I did it because I wanted to, because I cared and just so that there was one less thing for her to need to worry about. Last night I cooked up a storm. Shepards Pie, Chilli Con Carne in many containers. Anyway, I'm off track.
The passing of her granddad got me to thinking about the death of my Pa. It also made me realise that time lifts the weight of the death of loved ones from your shoulders. It does not mean that you forget. I just becomes a burden that it carried by not consistantly felt. The grief, the loss lightens until it is a weight that you can carry without thinking about it.
I still miss my Pa. Part of me feels that I have not completed my grieving process. My love for him was great and I miss him. The last few years of his life were special for us. Although he had lost many of his faculties, he was a pleasure to visit. His nursing home was a nice place. He would try to escape as they had him in lockdown because he would walk off, and they did not want him being hurt. Pa I love you, I miss you, I treasure our memories.