Grief has a funny way of making obvious facts suddenly difficult to process. I know for a fact that four weeks ago my family lost my grandpa, John Power III. He's the guy who gave us some of the best laughs, family vacations and memories of our lives. He taught us how to celebrate our Irish heritage in style every St. Patrick's Day. He introduced me to service projects as close as the downtown soup kitchen and as far away as Honduras.
I know we don't get to have him around anymore. However, I also don't think my brain has accepted that fact just yet.
For the past two years while away at college, Gramps was always a phone call away. There are certainly days where all I want is to hear his voice, always so loud and full of genuine interest and enthusiasm. He was so good at making everyone he talked to feel like a priority. I've never lost such a close family member, but I'd imagine that it'll be a long time before all of this feels real.
However, amidst the process of coming to terms with our family's loss, I had a thought that was hard to ignore. At Gramps' wake my cousin Molly and I were comforting each other in a particularly emotional moment. Like a lot of people in the room who loved him so much, we were crying. I looked at Molly, my arm around her shaking shoulders. "Do you know why you're crying so hard?" I asked her. "You love him that much. If you didn't care, you wouldn't be crying."
In that moment, I began to reframe our sadness, and I've been continuing to ever since. The realization I had has given me a sense of comfort to thrive on. This profound loss, this sudden emptiness, was a direct reflection of the love and happiness Gramps gave us. Being that sad, it turns out, only happens when you've been really really fortunate.
What an amazing time we had with him. Though it's natural to go into a dark place and feel only sadness, I can't help but feel lucky for having 19 years of overlap between his life and mine. With his best friend and wife Molly at his side, everyone in the family felt the effects of Gramps' love of life, faith and family. Honestly, how many people can say that their grandparents came to hang out in their college dorm room?!
Toward the end of his life, Gramps endured a really tough fight with cancer. Yet through that, he maintained gratitude for even the smallest things. I have a really vivid memory of him turning to me, placing his warm, wrinkled hand on mine and thanking me for a book of crossword puzzles I'd given him to use during chemo. Even in such a hard time, he was sure to let me know I was appreciated.
Grief is certainly an unwelcome guest in our lives. There's no point where it truly disappears either. But where there is room for sadness, there is also room for gratitude. I feel a little lighter knowing that I can move forward with the memories and morals I'll always have from Gramps. If I can live life even half as fully as he did, I'll be in pretty damn good shape.
