Today is hard.
One year ago today I sat with the rest of my family in a Grand Rapids hospital waiting room as my grandfather underwent the several hour Whipple procedure. About a month before we had received the devastating news that Grandpa had pancreatic cancer. Always a fighter, Grandpa jumped at the chance to have this surgery, hopeful that it would buy him some more time with us on this Earth. 9 months later the cancer took Grandpa from us.
One year ago today I was with you. One year ago today I told you I loved you and gave you a hug.
Two and a half months ago I was with you again. I hugged you as tight as I dared and told you I loved you, the last time I would get to say those words to you in this lifetime.
Not a day goes by where I don't think about you. Not a day goes by where I don't long for floats down the Muskegon river or the sound of your voice over the phone. I wish I could have had more time with you. I wish I would have appreciated the time I did have with you more.
But above all my selfish wishes and sadness, I am so happy that the pain of this world is behind you. I know you wanted more time with us, but I would be kidding myself not to know that where you are now is so much better. I know you're still with me everyday, and as long as you promise to keep listening, I promise to keep talking.
I'll always miss you. I'll always love you.