I Miss Him

Today is a hard day. I have them often. Hard days. Days when no matter how much I try to hold in the tears, they come anyway. 

I tell my daughter to feel the feelings. To cry the tears. To remember the times of laughing, hugging, and memories. However, for me, it is almost impossible to control my emotions. They rise up when least expected. I should listen to my own advice. I can only imagine what today and tomorrow will be like for her. And that's another reason to cry. I grieve for her and all her pain. I want as a mother to absorb it all for her. My pain is bad enough, but hers? It's on another level entirely.

I miss my grandson. It is Christmas Eve, and he's not here. He should be. He should be here, getting ready to go on another one of Grandma's little adventures, no matter how crazy or dumb or silly they are. It usually involves food (ok, it always involves food), then some shopping, and don't forget the family pictures. So many pictures. My advice—take them. Take so many, because one day, it might be all you have left. 

I am that grandmother who loves being with her grandchildren. I go to baseball, soccer, and other sports activities with them, even though I don't understand them. I cheer for them and tell them how good they are. I go to piano and guitar recitals. I want to spend time with them and be a part of their lives. 

And now one is missing. One less grandson to spoil, listen to, tease, and laugh with. One less grandchild to buy presents for, to celebrate holidays with. To shop with and go to festivals with. To eat fish tacos and French dip sandwiches with. One less. 

So, today, as I sit and write, I want to hold on tight to my memories and hug them as though he is here. I want to imagine him in the next room watching TV or playing his guitar. I want to pretend he's going on and on about the prime rib we are having tomorrow. I want to remember everything—all of it.

Tomorrow, on Christmas Day, I will hold him in my heart. I will remember his sweet smile, and I will be thankful for the 22 wonderful years I had with him. And I will pray and ask God never to let me forget. To remember always to honor his life. 

As grandparents, we have been blessed with nine grandchildren. All are so very loved. We are grateful for them. My prayer is that I always show it, that I always spoil them. That I always be remembered as the crazy grandma who did and said funny things. Who took them shopping and who thought they were the best grandkids in all the world. 

I hope Jack thought and felt that way about me. I hope he knew how much he was loved. I really do. 

Merry Christmas, Jack. I miss you.