I Wish My Grandparents Lived to See Me Become an Adult
I want them to know that they played a larger role than I was able to fathom when I was younger
I’m twenty-nine years old and I have no living grandparents.
I’ve never met my grandfather on my Dad’s side — he died long before I was born. My Mom never even met him. My grandmother on my Dad’s side died when I was maybe three or four years old, so I barely remember her.
On my Mom’s side, my grandmother died when I was ten and my grandfather died when I was fifteen.
Out of all of them, the most vivid memories I have are of those of my grandfather on my Mom’s side since he was the person I was able to spend the most time with.
But, even with the time that I did have with him, it still feels like it wasn’t enough.
After my grandmother on my Mom’s side passed away, my grandfather’s health immediately began to decline.
He had emphysema, so when he died pretty much everyone in my family accepted that his death was a result of his condition (along with old age), but deep down I knew that he really died from a broken heart because my grandmother died.
Either way, towards the end of his life, all of my visits to see him took place in the hospital that he was staying in.
When he passed, death was still a hard concept for me to grasp, even as a teenager. I hadn’t been around death much or attended many funerals, so it was an experience I was still trying to figure out.
I don’t even remember crying.
It wasn’t until later in life that it finally hit me.
At twenty-nine years old, I’m experiencing the hard blow of mourning the deaths of my grandparents even after decades of them no longer being alive.
And I think it’s because I’m realizing, in the grand scheme of things, how little time I actually had with them when they were alive.
It hurts looking back at it now that I’m able to see how much I’ve grown since and matured since they passed. I’m realizing just how much they missed over the years, not only with me, but also…