My grandfather died last week.  As you can imagine, I am very sad; I can't believe that one minute he was there in my life, and the next, gone.  Gone just like that.

I called him Pappy.  I loved him with my heart and soul.  He was always a part of my world; whenever I needed someone to talk to, he was there, as big as life itself.  He brought me much in the way of joy, comfort.

He was my Mom's Daddy.  He lived with us.  Ever since Granny (his wife) took sick and died, he came to stay.  He lived with us over 10 years.  He and I became very close.

Pappy died of a sudden stroke.  He was working in the garden, something he clearly loved to do, when he collapsed.  When Mom went to check on him, she found him, unconscious, on the ground, barely breathing.

She immediately called for an ambulance, which arrived shortly after her phone call.  It was too late.  They tried like anything to save him, but it didn't work.

Pappy was gone.

The funeral was this past Saturday.  It's now Wednesday, not even a week since he passed.  (He died on Friday.)

Many people came for the service; it was very sad.  I don't know when I cried more.  I still cry, at unexpected times:  when I hear a song that reminds me of him, or smell something that he loved (like wood burning or Old Spice cologne or something from the garden), the tears start.

Mom tells me he's in a much better place.  How can he be in a better place when I want him here with me?

Well, I am starting to cry again.  I hate this:  does it ever get easier?  I don't think I'll ever be happy again, not without my Pappy.  I miss him so much!

Why did you have to die???
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www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdPEIF6Xsc8