Today is my Grandfather’s Birthday – He would’ve turned 85. He passed away three and a half years ago. Our family referred to him as Pappy and my Grandmother, as Mammy.

I’m not sure how to express appropriately, in words, how much they influenced my life. How much love we shared. And – How deeply I miss them.

I like to think that they are around me. Still.

But, I don’t actually know that for sure. I only hold onto the hope that this is the case. That this is our reality.

I know. This is the circle of life. Right? Only, I don’t think I’m dealing with it as well as I should be. I’m not really sure how to deal with the loss of them. Or, how to appropriately fill the void that has been left inside my heart.

I suppose that when we lose someone that means so much to us, we begin to see their influence in everything we do, people we encounter throughout our day and even within the choices that we make.

So often, I feel their presence. I believe that they find ways to show me that they are still here.

I like to think that we honor them within our positive choices. And that they guide us through our – well – not so good choices. I like to think that our souls remain connected and that their unconditional love is still present in my life.

But, the truth is – That life without them lacks something. Something big. Something that nothing else can truly offer. Something that I loved so deeply. Appreciated so intensely. And, something that I will never have again.

I’m trying. Trying so desperately to continue on a path that they wanted for me. For my boys.

But, sometimes, if I’m being completely honest – I don’t know what that is anymore. I’m tired. No, actually – I’m beyond exhausted. Emotionally exhausted.

Maybe it is all part of healing. Or part of the grieving process. I really don’t know.

Today, I have been thinking. A lot. About Pappy. About Mammy. About life. About death. And about everything that occurs in between.

My Pappy – He sure was a good man. My most loyal cheerleader and one of my best friends. He radiated moral character – Integrity, honesty, loyalty – And was the epitome of a dedicated family man. He was fair, was never quick to judge and he was forgiving beyond measure.

Mammy always said that he was a charming young man. Chivalrous. And, very handsome. There were so many reasons for her falling in love with him. Looking back on their pictures, he almost resembled James Dean. He looked like and had an air about him – of a movie star. So did she, actually. They shared a love story that melted my heart throughout my entire lifetime.

He looked at her with so much love. And gratitude. Loyalty and commitment. I loved the way he watched her. How he would smile at her with gentleness and appreciation. He even wrote her poetry. I imagine that he was much more romantic than we ever were told. And that they were willing to share.

Everyone deserves a love like that.

Everyone deserves to have someone look at them with the same gentle, loving eyes.

My fear – is that I’ll begin to forget. Forget the moments we shared. Forget the many conversations we had and wisdom he so freely offered. Forget what Mammy told me about him. The things that he would’ve never spoken of. He was a modest man. And humble. So much so, that he refused to have services once he passed away.

About a week before he passed away, I sat by his bedside and he told me, “If people want to honor me, they should’ve done so while I was living. The time to honor someone is not after they die.”

Wow. How could I possibly argue with that? I couldn’t. It definitely stuck with me, that’s for sure.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. It’s a concept that I believe to be a bit perplexing, actually. How after someone passes away, people come out of the woodwork claiming their right to a relationship with the deceased.

People can recreate memories, the way they want them to be. Not always as they actually were. People can redefine what that person meant to them. The impact they had. And visa-versa.

Stories can be rewritten to help ease guilt. And selfishness, even. People often attempt to right their wrongs. Take back words. Smooth the rough edges. Create the visits that they never actually took the time for.

All in hopes to rewrite their story. To smooth out the rough patches and any wrong-doings.

When I was little, Mammy and I were driving by a cemetery – I remember seeing a look upon her face that I will never forget. She got quiet. She looked so sad. In retrospect, I recognize those eyes. That distant and empty look in her eyes.

I remember asking her what was wrong as we drove past. She explained that her Mother was buried there. She missed her. Intensely. She passed away far too young. It was in that moment that she instilled, “Don’t take the people you love for granted. You never know if you will have them tomorrow.”

She explained to me that one day, I will lose her. And Pappy.

I disagreed. They were supposed to out-live me, somehow. She laughed. I didn’t. And we agreed to disagree.

She strongly urged me to pay attention to what she had to say. She encouraged me to never speak harshly to those I love. To speak to them as if it were my last words. She told me that she never spoke to her Mother with disrespect and always took the time to visit her and her Daddy. She stressed the importance – And explained how grateful she was, to not be carrying the guilt so many face after their loved ones pass on.

I never forgot that. I still value her advice, to this day. Perhaps even more now than ever.

Days before Pappy passed away, I was fortunate enough to have one last conversation with him. He made me promise him these three things:

1. To be the best Momma possible to my boys.
2. To help take care of Mammy for him.
3. To never, ever give up.

I miss him so deeply. I miss them both more than imaginable. I always knew that these moments would be the darkest of my life. They were my foundation. My greatest source of unconditional love. My mentors and my best friends. They believed in me far more than I ever believed in myself.

It’s difficult to take one step at a time, in a forward direction, when nothing looks familiar anymore.

My sanctuary no longer exists. Everything changed. Just. Like. That.

While I remain eternally grateful for the many years of love and stability we did have – I find myself wishing for one more moment. One more conversation. One more hug. And one more moment to tell them how much I loved them. How deeply they have influenced my life.

Selfishly – I want them to come back.

Today, in honor of my Pappy’s birthday, I filled my bird feeders in hopes that the cardinals will continue to visit us. And, I planted yellow mums in honor of Mammy.

I know, whole-heartily, that they would not want me in this place. Feeling sad and empty. Especially not today.

I know that their greatest wish is for me to spread my wings – And keep my promises I made to Pappy.

I know this to be true – because they taught me, from a very young age, that the best way to honor those we love is to live our best life.

To carry those we love in our hearts. Always. And to recognize the gentle whispers of their everlasting presence in our lives – And in our souls.

And to always walk in gratitude – Offering to others, what has so graciously been offered to us.