Farewell, Grandad.

Standard

I never got to meet you 

But I love you like I love my father, and like my mother loves you.

She’s kinda broken, though still fierce.

Kinda messed up and kinda figuring her life out still; even though she’s already past 40.

I guess we never really stop doing that, cause life changes all the time and you’ve got to keep adapting, keep forwards. 

Her heart breaks which makes mine break even more.

So I’m hurting doubly for her.

I’m hurting too cause you were always far away, but the stories made me feel like I knew your love, always.

I got to know and love granny and I know that you were probably like her.

So I hurt again for her too. 

Losing you is like losing her all over again, and it’s hard to think that loss is inevitable in life. 

You were the last granddaddy standing. 

I hope your spirit keeps me moving for the rest of my life.

Thank you for giving me my mother.  

When they leave

Standard

When they leave you, don’t keep fragments of them in your purse.

Take out the old train tickets from journeys to see each other,

and take out the old receipts from your round of drinks together in dark little pubs.

Don’t let their forgotten jacket linger in your wardrobe,

and don’t let the old pair of trainers they left on your shoe rack catch dust.

Don’t you dare wear their stray t-shirts at night, convincing yourself its just for a moment — to reminisce.

Don’t hold on to the memory of their kisses, or the tender way they spoke your name like butterflies.

Let your heart only sometimes ache with the bittersweet pang of the end.

Know that you’re better for it,

happier for it,

wiser for it,

and anchored to nothing else but your own self and your own freedom.