Thirteen years ago today I lost the first man I ever loved. I can count on one hand the number of times I have given my heart away, and since the day I lost him it has never felt whole again.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was at work when the call came in. I knew in an instant that something was wrong and it was him. They wanted me to come home before they told me what had happened. I screamed into the phone “Tell Me Now”. They didn’t want me to drive home but I insisted. Still to this day when I hear the song on the radio that was playing that night it sucks the breath right out of me. I didn’t make it all the way home. I had to stop and call and have someone come and get me.
The next day we flew to attend the funeral. When we got off the plane it was cold, dark and dreary. The complete opposite of this great man. I wasn’t sure how life would go on without him. It has gone on because there has been no greater goal that making him proud and carry on his legacy. For as long as I can remember I hoped for a son to be his name sake, I have learned, in time, a name isn’t what makes a man. My daughter has the same twinkle in her eye that he did, and it warms me to my soul every time I see it. Not only does she have that sparkle in her eye, but when she looks at my dad, your son, I see myself looking at you. With all the love and adoration in the world.
Grandpa, I miss you more every day. I know that Grandma will join you sooner rather than later now and that in itself makes me happy and sad all at the same time. Happy because you will be together again. Sad because the final chapter of that great book will be closed.
Not only was he the first man I ever loved, he was the first person I ever lost. The love was the greatest feeling I have ever felt, the loss the worst.