At 4.01pm on Monday, November 26, I heard about the passing of my grandfather.
I’m writing this at 5.40pm on Tuesday, having spent the last 25 or so hours thinking about how to write about this. Truth be told, I’m still trying to convince myself that it’s real. I remember seeing him less than a few weeks ago in person; I remember holding his hand and speaking to him; I remember him asking how I was, how work was treating me, how I was feeling, what I was up to …
And now he’s gone.
There really isn’t anything you can do to prepare for a moment like this, is there? I like to consider myself somewhat of a good writer, but I find myself in the unsettling position of being at a complete loss for words.
Not only that, but words themselves feel utterly inadequate for such a task. What words are there that can accurately describe the life of someone you loved dearly? What words can truly capture the sadness of their passing, the emptiness of their absence, the love that endures stronger than ever regardless?
Truth is, there are no words, no combination of letters that can ever come close to capturing the infinitely complex life of a single person, the highs and the lows, the happy moments and the sad, the life-changing events and the smallest of intimate moments.
In the end, even the most skilled pen can only ever create a pale shadow of the real thing.
It’s a sobering thought for someone who hopes to become a proper writer some day, but it’s also reassuring in a way. It reminds me that our lives are truly unique and special. Knowing that our time on this Earth can never be recreated, makes me appreciate it all the more.
So yes, I’ll mourn, I’ll cry, I’ll feel pain. But I’m okay with that because my grandpa was worth it. I’m grateful for the time I was given to spend with him and even though I’ll never be able to capture that time in words, I’ll still be able to hold it in my heart.