My grandpa's funeral was today. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know so much about my grandpa, he did many things, he was a generous man, and was fun. The entire service I fought with myself to keep from crying, I sat next to my grandma in the front row of a seperate room for the family. She occassionally cried, wiping away her tears with a handkerchief. It became unbearable everytime because I felt the need to cry. Finally, after the service was over, and all the friends and other people that had attended the funeral were dismissed to look at grandpa in his casket, and then they left the room. My grandma asked who would go up there with her to give one last glance to my grandpa before he went six feet under. My mom and a few others stood up, but I said, "I'll go with you." I stood up, and she took my hand and held it as she slowly walked up there to look at my dead grandpa. For a moment she just looked, but then suddenly tears spilled from her eyes and she cried in a loud mournful way that brought most of us to tears. They hugged her, all of my family, one at a time, embracing her as she wept with bitter anguish from the loss of my grandpa. Just looking at my grandma's saddness I finally let tears whell up into my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. My face became inflamed as I watched my grandma cry on her brother and other families shoulders, my mom's and my aunts. I watched the people who cried, and I couldn't stand it. We'd all been strong up to this point. They finally closed the casket, and locked it. And they carried it to the car to take to the cemetary. I watched my older cousin, Eric, fight away tears himself, his eyes rimmed red. I never thought someone like him would cry, the way he acted and all. It was surprising, but made me really want to cry. I'd struggled through the entire service, closing my lips tight and not keeping my gaze on anything for long because if I did, my mind would remember my sweet grandpa, and I would want to cry.
When the military did their thing, at some point they played that mournful song with the trumpet, as we saluted the flag that would soon be given to my grandma. My grandma was fighting back tears so she could keep her hand over her heart. I felt so bad that I didn't just wrap my arms around her and tell her it would be okay, that she would see him again in heaven at the second coming, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it because how could I comfort someone when I myself was near tears?
When we went to the cememtary, I was okay. The pastor gave a quick speech, and then they lowered my grandfather. After that we left because my grandma didn't want to watch him be buried.
When we went to the reception my hyper little cousins kept me occupied so I didnt have to think about it. But when I went home all I wanted to do was shut my door, shut the window, turn out the lights, grab a box of tissues, and weep silently to myself so I could be strong for the next day, and not suddenly cry during classes.
I loved my grandfather a whole lot, just didn't know that his death would be so painful, yet so hard to believe. I still find myself thinking that he's not dead, that I'm going to see him after school tomorrow waiting to pick me up because my mom couldn't. I guess thats where my faith of knowing that I'll see him again one day, keeps me from feeling like I've lost him forever. But the pain is still there, how is everything going to adjust without my grandpa, and who he was, its just not something I can fathom.
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Tori's Journal
This is just where I put events I feel like sharing.
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ekichaba
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"The mouth may speak for the mind, but the eyes speak for the heart." -me
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