The First Day of Spring

There's a scratchy lump in my throat & I'm not writing this smoothly, all at once. My thoughts are a little disjointed, my cheeks a little wet.

My grandpa passed away on the first day of spring. Yesterday.

He won't see what this unusually warm weather brings. He won't see the trees in full leaf, or hear the birds migrating to nesting grounds. He won't be at my cousin's wedding in the fall. There won't be another Christmas in Powassan...

Gone with him are his jokes & his stories - of the cottage, the hunting camp, the shop, my dad as a kid... Gone: his knowledge, his stubborn determination, his sneaky smile, his raspy chuckle.

Honestly though, the sadness is for ourselves. His grandchildren who have lost their grandparents; his children who have lost their parents. We are the ones who grieve, who miss the strength & solidity of their presence.

But for my grandpa, there is no sadness. My grandma has been gone for 5 years now. Gone is the loneliness of an old man alone in the home that used to be full of the life & laughter of six kids & a loving wife. Now, he has no wants. No more pain or suffering or sorrow.

All that remain are the memories. These we will clutch to our hearts & cherish dearly. We will share them fondly so that we may remember.