Te amo con todo mi corazon payayito.

I just finished reading the blog I wrote this day, a year ago and there isn't words that can describe what I feel when I talk about him or when I sit and stare at his picture. There isn't enough words to describe how angry I felt when I found out. There isn't enough words to describe how he was okay and suddenly he was gone. There isn't words. There just isn't. 

It hurts.

My mind hasn't caught up to the idea that he is gone. 

And I honestly think it will never do.

I'm okay, but there's that split second when I look at my mom and her facial expression remind me of him. She resembles him in the most beautiful ways. He was a beautiful person.

One time I was in Mexico and he was building the house, where my grandma now lives. He asked me to come with him to help him "work." So I went. He was the one working, if I am completely honest. I was climbing the piles of dirt and rolling down from them. Then in the mist of the fun, he told me it was time for our lunch break. We went to the store that is still across from my grandma's house and he told me to pick a pack of cookies. After we sat on the sidewalk as we shared the pack of cookies and a bottle of chocolate milk. He then asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I gave him a random answer and I just remember him telling me that I could be whatever I wanted to be because no matter what I did, he knew I would succeed. After, as I continued to grow up he would often remind my sister and I to be good kids, work hard, do things right and set the good example.

I know that my grandpa is proud of me. 

I don't need verification or for someone to tell me, because I know he is. 

  

My grandpa was the first big loss I ever experienced, so that is part of why it still hurts.

Yet, that isn't the whole reason.

He is and will forever be my second father.

x x 

(I know there is no need to publish a post. Yet, every time I write about him, I get the feeling that even if it is just in my writing he is still alive.)