This past Sunday marks three years since my grandpa passed away. And in those three years, I've grown up so much: I've graduated high school, began college, and signed a lease for my first apartment. I've cried, I've succeeded, I've failed, and I've persevered. I look back on the 17-year-old girl who said goodbye to you all those years ago, and I wonder who she would've become without you. I wonder who she would be now if you were still around.

While I know that you lived a long 82 years with a lifetime of laughs, memories, hardships, and family, I can't help but wonder what you would've thought of me in these last three years of my life. Would I have made you proud? Would you see in me all the things I try to see in myself?

I think to myself all the time that it's not fair. It's not fair to watch the people you love suffer, and forget you. It's not fair to watch them draw a blank on their proudest memories or forget the punchline on their signature joke. It's not fair to watch them try to retell the stories you've known by heart since you were a little girl, trying not to correct them as they get frustrated with details.

But I always remind myself of all the wonderful things you've taught me, things I find in myself everyday. Things that remind me that the best of people live in our hearts forever, long after their bodies fail them and they leave this Earth for a better place.

I remember you saying not to take life too seriously, because it will pass you by before you get a chance to appreciate it.

I remember you telling me to listen more than I talk, because I'm not the only one who has something important to say.

I remember your sense of humor, and how you always found a way to laugh at yourself.

I remember the stories you used to tell, and how captivated I was at the way you commanded words (a captivation that led me to love words myself).

I remember your competitive spirit, one that taught me both how to be a sore loser AND a sore winner, and that neither is a becoming attitude.

I remember how you never let us win, and how that taught me to work hard to get the results I wanted to see.

I remember how fiercely loyal you were to your family, no matter who it was or what they had to say about us.

I remember that you always have a chance to redeem yourself, no matter how far you've fallen or how much time you've lost.

And I remember, more than anything, how full of love you always were, even in your days when my face was a little less recognizable and your memory was a little hazier than usual.

I know now that whoever I turn out to be, even with all the years that have passed since our time together, that a piece of you will always live within me. I will always be appreciative. I will always be humble. I will always find a reason to laugh. I will always tell stories. I will be competitive. I will always work hard. I will always be loyal. I will always be kind. I will always work hard to be my best self. And I will always love as unconditionally and truly as possible.

Because the things you've taught me are things that can never die, and no amount of time will fill the place you have in my heart.