Those words linger through my ears as if he had told me yesterday. I could’ve never imagined three years prior, my grandpa's word could be anymore true, but at the same time, utterly wrong. Grandpa was the knight in shining armor you read about in story books, except he wore a military uniform adorned in prestigious badges. After serving time in Vietnam, he married my grandma and adopted my mother. He claimed that day to be one of the happiest days of his life. Fast forward 20-something years later and I had the honor of calling him my grandpa. But here’s the thing, my grandpa wasn’t just my grandpa. He was my second dad, my biggest fan, my teacher and most importantly my best friend. We did everything together. I enjoyed talking one on one with him the best.

Our conversations were about everything you could imagine. One thing that always stuck with me though was when he'd say "We won't be here forever babe." I didn't understand what he was saying, or maybe it was that I didn't want to. I couldn't imagine my life without Grandpa. But his time came sooner than any of us would believe. He was diagnosed with cancer and given only a year to live. A year seemed like a long time to spend with him. However, that year turned into months instead. On his last Valentine's day, he gave all of us a gift of personalized jewelry. Mine was a cross necklace. Within the box, came a small note. He confessed to us of his undying love. Three weeks later, he passed. This was the worst day of my life. I couldn't face the loss of him. I constantly drank down my feelings.

Eventually, the pain slowly healed. Yet, I still heard those few words, "We won't be here forever babe." But this is where I found peace and understanding. Grandpa was wrong. He may have not been here physically, but he was always here. He was in the train whistle that rolled late summer evenings, he was the glistening in the water on a hot sunny day while fishing. My grandpa was the breeze that flowed through the wheat fields. He was always with me and still is. Although, his passing may have been soon, I can always feel his presence. And those words that linger, are slowly fading away.