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Just Breathing

Loren Abell

By Loren AbellPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
2

I am sitting in the same spot where you took your last breath with tears streaming down my face. I should not be here alone. You should be here next to me. Breathing. Just breathing. Not hooked up to an oxygen tank or to tubes with chemo flowing through. Just breathing. I begin to think about all the memories we shared in the short amount of time I got to spend with you, all the wise words you had said, all the hugs you gave, and all of the truths you had instilled in me since I was young. You supported me in everything I did. You always cheered me on.

Your smile lit up a room, your laugh could clear away the darkest night. You were always there even when you were not there physically, you were there for me supporting us behind the scenes. I would do anything for that support, that hug, that smile.

I remember vividly all the nights that we played Monopoly. You were always the banker. Many laughs were shared in those many hours. The hours were not enough. I cannot play that game anymore without thinking of you. We play it every Christmas just to feel a part of you back with us. You loved board games, and now, my family shares that passion.

I remember every time I would peer out the window to see you driving up our lane and I would shout with excitement “Grandpa is here!!”. We would run outside to greet you, and you would say that you came to help around the house with whatever we needed help with. Usually that was mowing the yard. You always did it and asked for nothing in return. You did it because you wanted us to be able to spend time together as a family. You were a servant and always willing to help those around you. I strive daily to be more of a servant like you.

I remember the conversations I had with you while you laid in the hospital bed. I felt helpless. You were always the one to stand next to us when we were in times of need, you were always so strong…invincible. I will cherish those conversations for a lifetime. I was not strong enough to take your place, so you remained strong, and fought for your life. I pray that one day, I will be as strong as you...in faith and physically.

I remember standing next to your casket, holding your cold and lifeless hand, feeling so alone, telling you goodbye for the very last time. I remember standing by your grave site, placing flowers on top as tears spilled from my bloodshot eyes. I remember the tears, the laughter, the pain, the joy. We did not want you to leave, but we did not want you to live a life of pain, so God took you home. A home where there is no more pain, no more fears, and no more tears.

I can only imagine the beauty that you are seeing right now. I know that you are free to run, and you have the opportunity to spend time with long lost friends and family.

So now, I sit here, where you took your last breath, reminiscing on all the good times, thinking about the strength that you gave me. My tears turn into a slight smile. My sadness turns into joy. I know that a part of you will always be with me. Even when the road ahead looks really rough, I choose to believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Now, I am 20. I have lived a few years without you. It is not the same, it never will be. But every day gets a little less hard, because I know that you are with me and I am one day closer to seeing your big smile again, and sitting next to you and just breathing. Just breathing.

grief
2

About the Creator

Loren Abell

I am a junior in college studying Music Therapy. I love music, coffee, and people <3

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