out there orbiting around

My grandad taught me to write, read and count before I went to school. He told me stories no history book could explain better. Chain smoked filterless cigarettes from the age of ten, we used to joke that tar was the only thing holding his lungs together like glue. Was the most magnificent misanthrope imaginable, but loved us more than that. Sure, there were fights, because we are all only humans and as such have a tendency to callously cause each other pain, blinded by flashes of emotions, making life more complicated than it should be. And involuntarily, after someone we love dearly passes away, apart from all the good memories, we also remember and regret even these five minutes of anger and disagreement. Because these were five minutes we’ll never get back now, when we can’t make any new memories. 

Still, there are only so many tears I can shed before remembering that the only constructive way to deal with this grief is living in a way that would make my grandad proud. Chin up. Don’t slouch! Sometimes think what he would say in certain situations. Keeping the memories close, because they are so precious. Everyone who touches our hearts and leaves an imprint so deep, also leaves a piece of themselves living within us. And if we pass it on further, by our actions and such, their legacy will somehow live on, making them immortal in a way. Even if physically, they are not there anymore.

Treat every good-bye like it could be your last one, because you never know.

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