Setting In.

It just hit me that I don't have a grandpa anymore.

It all started two days ago, jokingly calling an older friend "Grandpa," when my slightly silly self froze in thought. My mouth leaked the words on my mind gone cold and still, completely vacant of any other thought. "Oh. I don't have a grandpa anymore."

It was one of those, "oh bummer man, this stinks" type of feelings. But seeing as the atmosphere was strong, the cards were gathering condensation, and I was easily distracted, thoughtful chaos moved in on the downer thought's turf. I was smiling in no time.

Adrenaline never does last. I've been quick to crack smiles in the face of loss, throughout ceremonies and handshakes, because it's all I know how to do. It's my most honest form of honor. Yet time goes on, and it gets increasingly harder to go a day without thinking about that laugh, golf on the TV, and a snoring soundtrack. One month is just a long absence, just a trip. As it expires, so does my will to wait for you to walk through the door.

How the hell am I supposed to get through this holiday without you?

I've been so goddamn strong, but I guess everyone has their moments. I kept my brave face because I know my family needed me to be strong. Resilience is a God-given gift, even to such an emotional child.

I don't know what triggered this. All I know is that my hand found the piece of you that I have left in the dark, and I'm holding its loose threads for dear life.

Deep breathing tells me I know what I need to do. Face forward; live for more than myself. Self-start, make a name, and embody every bit of that fighting spirit.

I'll shake a plastic egg open and smile at my family behind a striped red dress, because you'd tell me how beautiful I am, and I'd kiss you on the cheek with a smile. I strive for eyes as loving as yours. I speak for words as honest as yours.

You're the good luck charm of the family, now using it to keep a close eye. I have the greatest team of angels kissing my eyes while I sleep.