I think the hardest part for me was to accept that he was gone. It was harder because I didn't get to talk to him everyday. So it was easier thinking that I would talk to him in a few days. You know the saying that if you don't grow form the pain it will make you bitter. Well it took me over a year to realise that.
I would go to school upset, sometimes cry or have an anxiety breakdown. All I wanted was someone to understand the kind of pain I was in. No one could. Yet I think that's the main reason it took more than a year to get better. I mean I can never completely be okay, ever. But without my mother I don't think I would have even healed.
While the flesh wound is gone. I think the cut was too deep. So this scar still remains. The funny thing is, it doesn't look ugly at all. In a way i think my grandpas death was a good thing. He finally might be in a place where he isn't in pain or really sick.
This scar is for life. Yet I think that I can learn a lot from it. That I need to stop wondering and start living. That those who give you their utmost love, it's vital you give the same love back. You live once, live it.
Regret isn't worth a single penny. No one who truly loves/ loved you would want that.
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