My Grandfather is dead today

Today the world feels dimmer,
as if the sun paused in its path,
hesitant to shine where your absence
now sits like a quiet shadow.
Grandfather, your chair is empty,
your laughter a memory that hums
in corners of the house that knew you best.
I reach for the familiar,
the scent of your coat,
the warmth of your hands,
but the air holds only the hollow echo
of a life that was steady and kind.

I remember mornings when your stories
filled the room like sunlight,
every word a gentle pull
toward something bigger, wiser.
You taught me how to see the world
in the small, sacred details—
a bird balancing on a branch,
the curve of the river,
the patience in planting seeds.
You were the keeper of time,
the quiet rhythm in a noisy world.
And now, the rhythm falters.

Grief is strange.
It comes not as a storm but as a slow river
that carves through the heart,
softening edges, shaping memories into stone.
I find myself speaking to you
in the silent moments,
asking for guidance,
telling you things I never could in life.
Do you hear me? I wonder.
I feel your presence in unexpected places—
a familiar tune,
the sudden scent of the earth after rain,
the way shadows fall across the floor.
It is in these small signs
that your spirit lingers,
in the subtle ways love refuses to leave.

Grandfather, I mourn not only you
but the conversations unfinished,
the questions still hovering in the air,
the embrace I can no longer feel.
Yet, in my sadness,
there is a thread of gratitude,
for the wisdom you planted
that will grow long after your voice is gone.
I carry it quietly,
like a lantern in my chest,
guiding me through days that feel too long,
through nights heavy with longing.

I imagine you now
among the stars or in the wind,
watching us from a distance,
your laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves,
your eyes a mirror of the past,
remembering the lives you touched.
I think of the lessons you left behind,
not in grand gestures,
but in moments of kindness, patience, and courage,
in the way you made everyone feel seen,
in the way you loved silently but deeply.
This is your legacy,
more enduring than grief,
more alive than absence.

So today, I weep,
and in my tears, I honor you.
I will tell your stories,
carry your love forward,
remember the way your presence made the world gentle.
And though the sadness presses close,
I will breathe in the gift of you—
a life well-lived,
a heart generous and steadfast,
a grandfather who shaped more than time could measure.

Even in death, you teach me:
to remember, to cherish, to love,
and to find light, however faint,
in the shadows you leave behind.