Soccerchic Scribblings

The Day My Opa Died

We had always been a close family, a tightly knit group that had been bound together by time. There where family dinners, birthday parties, christmas dinners, and get-togethers. I still can see your face at each one, laughing as you told the latest joke you had heard, smiling as you danced with Oma, the tender face you had reserved just for your grandchildren, when you winked at one of us because you had just poured salt in Oma's wine or hid her reading glasses once again. You taught us to value ourselves, to love those around us, and live life to it's fullest. Your own life was a testimony to that, for it was full and good.

I'll never forget the day you died, or the way you said goodbye to me in that hospital room. I still have the orange you gave me in my cupboard - cause I can't forget your face when you gave it to me and called me back into your room to say that you loved me one more time. You knew it was your time, that this was the end, and I knew it too. You were so weak in your last moments - you looked so old and frail in that hospital bed. It wasn't how you were meant to be, we both knew that. Yet letting go was so hard.

I miss you Opa, I wish you didn't have to go - but I hope, if you are looking down and can see me - that you are proud of what I've done. I love you amd one day I will see you again - I've got a joke you haven't heard yet.

posted by Adventures of a Girl @ 11:35 PM