He left the way he lived, with nobody watching.

They say that when you feel a body part, that’s when there’s a problem. I feel my heart very much. But it just means I have loved so hard, and now my heart is telling me that the love is still there, even if the person isn’t.

It feels like he might just walk in at any moment. He hasn’t really left- he’s just not home.

But my logical brain keeps trying to tell me to stop being so painfully unrealistic, it keeps trying to convince me to face the terrifying truth- but my heart won’t let me. It’s too much to take in.

The tears on my pillow can tell you the story of the last few  days.

Last Wednesday I said goodbye, cheerfully, happily, my small mind couldn’t fathom that I was saying Goodbye, I just meant goodbye for now, goodbye for a few days.

I miss him. I miss him so so much. It’s not fair that he’s gone, that my grandmother has to face each new day alone, that my mother is trying to keep it together.

As each new cousin arrives to see my grandmother and hold her hand, the pain is refreshed. Each one of us lost a different grandfather, because although he was one man, he was a different man to all of us. Everyone has their moments, their stories, and their memories with him and we all lost a different piece of our heart. But we are all hurting, for the same reason.

We are one family, and we lost our leader.