Sunday, August 29, 2010

0004

The last time I saw my grandfather, I began the process of realizing my grandfather would not be there forever. That he may not even be here for long.
The last time I visited my grandpa, we went to the hospital for his cancer treatment. It was a quiet place. I tried to talk with him. I enjoyed it. But there were moments where I felt the quiet permeating into our conversation. The quiet from between the beats of our hearts. The quiet of the truth of his illness.
I surely did not want to admit to any possibility that the treatment might not work.
I don't think I ever told him enough that I loved him. Do we ever tell the ones that we love often enough? I'm sure we could tell them every chance we get, and still feel like it wasn't enough. We can tell them when we remember to, and hope that they know in their hearts.

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