One year already?

Nanu & I, 1989.

I’m good. I’m surprisingly good today. I’m not sure what I expected exactly, but I suppose it was something along the lines of a wave of sadness coming over me, relegating me to my room in a pool of tears for the entirety of the day.

As a kid in Malta, c. 1930.

It’s March 5. I think about where I was one year ago today… sleeping in my grandma’s room in California (at around 330A), about an hour from being woken up by my sister so that she could tell me that my grandpa had passed away. We knew it was coming; he was at home by choice and hospice was with us to ‘prepare us for the end’. Whatever that means. Can you really ever be prepared? We did get to say our goodbyes and be with him during his last week, but looking back, I wonder how I didn’t explode during that time.

Grandma & Grandpa, 1950s.

I remember being balled up against the wall of the family room crying until there was nothing left inside of me, him sitting in the chair across from me, sick and medicated in a deep sleep. The thought of living without him or my grandma was foreign; it was something that I couldn’t fathom. Yet, a year ago today we all had to let go and say goodbye. I cried. I thought I was going to die for a brief moment in time. I didn’t know how to exist in a world where my family unit was broken.

The Boys.

Somehow, though, I came to terms with everything. I began realizing that life is life, and death is part of life. People live their lives and do as much as they can in the time that they have on earth. He certainly had time on earth. Nearly 84 years, and despite a number of health issues, he pushed through and was a trooper until the end. I gave the eulogy at his funeral a couple of weeks after he passed. Part of me questioned whether or not I would be able to deliver it in one piece; without breaking down and walking off of the stage. Somehow, miraculously, I did it. And at the end, I felt something strange; something cathartic. I felt like I had some sort of bizarre sense of closure. I had let him go and I said goodbye properly and I delivered a eulogy to a group of onlookers, explaining what an amazing man he was and how he so profoundly impacted my life. My grandma, who I thought would most certainly begin falling apart after his death, has handled it was an inner strength that I didn’t know she had. Of course, she’s still sad, she still hurts and she still cries, but she’s healing and has continued to live her life. Perhaps that’s what helps me cope and what helps me come to grips with reality. Seeing her survive and thrive after such a loss has made me realize the strength that we all have inside. No matter how had it gets, no matter what comes your way and what losses you have to cope with, you can move on. Not without their memory, but you can continue living your life as a way of honoring theirs.

Memorial Day, 2007.

So, with that, I remember the resilience of the human spirit and the strength of people’s souls and respectfully honor my grandpa’s memory and let him know that I’m moving forward. I’m living life and continuing to strive for success. Not without him, but rather, having him with me at every moment.