Love, Ariel

Letter #11

A letter to a deceased person you wish you could talk to

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Dear Grampa,

The entire family misses you. Things have been so...different ever since you died. In a few days, it'll be a whole year since your death. We still haven't gotten used to your absence, though. I don't think we ever will.

You know, one of the things I've learnt in the last year, is that you never really get rid of the pain. You never move on or get over it or heal or anything. You just get used to it. You just get used to it enough to push it aside and get on with your life regardless of it.

That's what everyone has been trying to do. It's hard.

Mom cries almost every other night. I know that because we live under the same roof. I don't know about Gramma or Uncle Manny or Aunt Nita. But I'm sure they do the same.

Gramma has been so strong, you know. She's the one comforting us when we miss you the most. She's been so strong and extremely brave.

Mom has a picture of you on her phone that she kisses whenever she sees – and she sees it quite a lot because it's her wallpaper.

The first few months were the hardest. Nobody could think of you without breaking down. People used to come over all the time. All of us were staying at Gramma's place for that time period. Back then, I used to think it was because we were supporting her, but now, I think it's because we needed support ourselves and staying together was the best way to cope.

The way I coped was by isolating myself, reading books, listening to music and being rude – something that led to everyone thinking I was heartless and cold. It was probably not the best way to deal with the situation but it helped me not think about you and how much I missed (miss) you.

I still miss you. I just don't cry a lot because I don't think about you that often. Whenever I do think about you, I just shake my head and try to pay attention to something else. On the occasion that I am unsuccessful and end up thinking about you, God, Grampa, the feeling I get in my chest is absolutely unbearable.

At first, it was torture to stay in your house. You left your print everywhere. On the walls, the furniture, the very air we breathed. It was suffocating and painful.

It was - and still is - absolute hell.

I remember Aunt Nita used to sleep with her glasses on, hoping to see you in her dreams. As for me, I kept having nightmares. 

One of them involved me walking around an airport and finding you hiding behind a pillar. You told me it was all a joke and then you came out to hug me. Just as your fingers touched my arms, the entire airport burst into flames and I woke up drenched in sweat, just to find Flint crying in bed beside me.

I stumbled upon a picture of you in Gramma's phone a couple of months back. It was such a shock, Grampa. There you were in your favorite green and black striped shirt, flashing your teeth in a wide grin, looking as happy as can be. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried forever.

And that's the worst part. You were always so happy. You were such a jolly, amiable man. I never saw you get upset with anyone. You were there to comfort us whenever we were blue and you had admirable patience, especially when it came to your grandkids.

I think that's why it hit us so hard. We were so close to you, Grampa. And you were such a lovely person. So healthy and happy. It was so unexpected and life-changing.

Yes, life-changing. I'm not sure about the others, but my life has been utter crap ever since you've left. School's a terror, home's not much of a comfort, and I'm trapped inside my mind. I'm trapped inside my mind and I wish you were here to unlock the door and let me out but you're not here, you're not anywhere and that stings so badly.

It's painful.

But, as I said, it's been a year and we're all struggling to get used to it. Flint and Ash cried a lot initially, but they're just little kids so they got over it quickly – I mean, they got used to it quickly. And Rish was only five. He had no clue what was happening. Mom doesn't burst into tears whenever she hears your name anymore and Gramma is trying her hardest to be strong. She's going to be staying with Aunt Nita for a while this year. Because she needs a change of scenario – I knew I hated this town for a reason – and because Aunt Nita is handling this very badly and needs some family with her.

I'm not so sure about Uncle Manny. He's as lonely as ever; he only leaves his – your – house to meet with clients and do grocery shopping. But maybe that's his way of dealing with stuff.

We're all growing, Grampa. We're all learning about pain and how to manage it.

I, for one, have been through a lot since your death. But we're not here to talk about that, are we? We're here to talk about how much I and everyone else, love you.

Because we do. There isn't a moment when you leave our hearts.

You were a great person, Grampa. You didn't deserve to die so fast.

Never mind. Life isn't a wish-granting factory, is it? (Yes, I finally finished reading The Fault in our Stars, the book I was telling you about ages ago).

Flint and I stand outside and look at the sky every night, waving at the brightest one - even though we sometimes disagree on which star is the brightest - imagining you waving back.

Even if you're not a star exactly, I hope you're looking down on me from wherever you are. I hope you're looking down on me and smiling because I'm making you proud.

Love,

Ariel