One day I was 7 years old playing whiffle ball and taking backward jumps off the diving board into the freezing cold water but then suddenly I wasn’t.

Suddenly, I was 19 years old kneeling down staring into a wooden casket. The thought never crossed my mind that one day I would be saying goodbye to my grandfather. It never occurred to me because I don’t think I ever took the time to acknowledge what was going on in front of me. He was my hero, my rock, the person I would call when I wasn’t feeling myself. But I never noticed he was getting weak while he was teaching me to get stronger.

Maybe there was nothing I could’ve done to save him and maybe there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent the goodbye, but one more day wouldn’t hurt. Yet every day since that final goodbye is harder than the last. And as the time ticks on, it seems as though the days are never ending. I lost the biggest part of me and the only person who saw me with a halo above my head. In his eyes, I could do no wrong. He walked me to my first day of school, he put the car in drive, he made the bunny ears for my shoe laces, and he flipped the pages of my books. He dealt the deck of cards, threw the first pitch, and watched me hold my breath under water. He went shopping, and to the movies, and out to dinner. And he did all of those things because he was my best friend.

People keep saying it’s going to get better. That these feelings of hopelessness and anger and sadness are going to go away, but my question is when? Because he was the person who was supposed to watch me graduate college, and walk me down the aisle and give me a hug when I finally made it through Med School. But now all I want is one more day. One more day to ask if there was anything I could’ve done or anything I could’ve said. If maybe I didn’t make him throw that ball he wouldn’t have been sick or maybe if I would’ve just said I love you, one more time that could’ve helped him fight a little harder.

I found that time will heal most wounds, except for this one. I can’t think of a day when I won’t want a five-minute phone call just to ask what’s up? I thought I had it all, and I thought I knew exactly who I was but I was only me because he was standing right next to me. I don’t know when the dark days are going to get bright again, and I don’t know when the ache will stop, but I have to believe he’s somehow here with me. I can feel him when the sun goes down, or when a song in the car comes on. I can feel him rub my back when I’m not feeling good and I can see his grin when I’m doing something I shouldn’t be. He’s not here, yet he’s everywhere I never looked before. The pain isn’t going away anytime soon, but somehow it feels like it’s going to be alright.