I believe in love. I believe in life and death. I believe there’s a place above where our lost loved ones sit and watch over us. I also believe in missing someone forever.
Christmas is just a word and another date on the calendar to some people, but to me it’s a lot more than that. Christmas is family and quality time. This past Christmas will always stand out in my mind. Little did I know that it would be the last Christmas I'd ever get to spend with my Pop Pop, one of the most important men in my life.
To be quite honest, I was dreading going to my aunt and uncle’s that Christmas morning. My dad’s side of the family was so normal, and that was always a bore for me. My twin cousins were glued to the TV as usual; my aunt and uncle cooked and talked war with my brother. My grandma and her husband were always talking about World War II or Cessna Airplanes and how they missed theirs. But my Pop Pop was sitting at the dining room table soaking it all up. He was always so humble, yet the most stubborn man you’d ever meet. I walked over to him and leaned down to give him a kiss. He gently placed his hand on my face and gave me a loving kiss on the cheek. His hands always shook terribly, but that day they were worse than I’d ever seen or felt. I spent that whole Christmas morning with my Pop Pop at the dining room table talking about nothing of importance.
The next day was the hardest morning of my life. I woke up to a text message from my father that read: “Pop Pop went into surgery this morning; he has an aneurism near his kidney. Been in surgery for 8 hours already, I’ll let you know.” The gut feeling in my stomach instantly took over my whole entire body. I immediately knew the next couple of days were going to be far from enjoyable. And I was right, my Pop Pop passed away that afternoon. There was nothing the doctors could do to save him.
The wake and funeral were two of the toughest days for me, saying goodbye was not something I was looking forward to doing. After shedding many tears, I began to see my Pop Pops death in a whole new light. I knew he would be looking down on me. And that idea in itself brought comfort to my heart. Even after he is gone, I have faith in my Pop Pop that he looks over my brother and me day in, and day out and keeps us safe. I believe that one day, I’ll be by his side, looking down on the people that I love. I believe in love, I believe in life and death, I believe my Pop Pop looks down on me from a place up above.
7 comments:
That is such a beautiful essay, I just wish you would've slowed down on the reading to accent it's feelings. I loved, loved, LOVED the pictures. =-)
Your story, pictures, and music were all great. I agree with vagabond however and thought you could have slowed down on the reading so the listener could soak it in. Other than that great job.
I absolutely loved your choice of belief, and the story behind it. I especially enjoyed the fact that you used personal pictures, because they made the story come alive. Your song choice was great too, it fits the story nicely. Your reading was great, although I do agree with the others that slowing down at certain points would accent the emotions you express. Great work =)
Wow this essay really hits home. It's very impressive that you have the strength to write such a moving essay. Loss is a hard thing to deal with and I like how you look at it from a different perspective.
Hey, lady. I was poking around Ms. Hassenplug's blog and found your PhotoStory. Now I see what all that scanning in Room 426 was for. :) You did a beautiful job with this assignment. Your family is so lucky to have you: a loyal, passionate, and sensitive individual who feels things deeply. Come visit me sometime soon, okay? :)
Have you thought of collecting the thoughts and stories others have of your grandfather? You have the beginnings of a wonderful family memoir, perhaps something to give your grandmother at some point.
Thank you for sharing.
I agree with what everyone else has said, and I'd like to make a suggestion. You could do this over, slow down your narration a little, and e-mail it to your family. It's the kind of piece family members will want to see again every now and then. (Well, maybe not the part about not wanting to go because things were boring, but the rest of it.) :)
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