1 month +

Today, I curled up in a ball and cried my eyes out.  I'm not ready for my Grandpa to be referred to as "the dead man."  I'm not ready to wear his sweatshirt.  I'm not ready to tell myself that my grandma's a widow at 58.  I'm not ready to look at pictures and watch home videos.  I'm not ready to think of all the memories, although, my mind thinks I am.  I'm not ready to move on.  I'm in this strange state.  Thursday's might as well be referred to as the "emotional" day.  I'm pretty sure I've cried every one since August 26. 
I guess the truth is, I brought the tears on myself.  I was there every step of my grandpa's death.  I was there when he hit the hundred pound mark.  I was there when he stopped eating.  I was there when he slipped into a coma.  I was there when his heart stopped beating & his lungs stopped breathing.  I was there for it all.  Seeing death as a 16 year old is difficult.  Maybe that's why it's so emotional.  Maybe I'm just a weakling. 
Everyday, I think of another memory.  I think I've used up all the good ones & now, only the bad ones come back.  Two days ago, I realized I'm a selfish person & cried my eyes out then too.  I had the opportunity to spend more time with him & I chose someone else.  He layed on his deathbed & I felt like it was such a task to rub his feet.  That was all he wanted. 
I'm learning from my mistakes & cherishing the time I have with everyone I know.  I hope you do the same.
P.S.  He bought me an acoustic guitar.  I'm learning to play because he would have liked that.  Finally.