"Is she really dead?" The child snuggled up closer to her grandfather and held on tightly.
"Yes. She really did die. She's not coming back." He pulled the child closer and she felt safe. "But you're going to be okay. You've got your dad and your brother. You've got me and Nanny. We're going to look after you."
I don't remember what else he said that day but I remember that even though my world was crashing down around my ears I knew that it would be okay. It wasn't until I was older that I took a moment to think about how hard it must have been for him. His daughter had died less than 24 hours beforehand and here he was with her daughter trying to make sense of it all. Looking back at it now I can't bear to think about his pain.
I really, really, really miss my grandfather. I wish I'd had him in my life for longer. I wish I'd said thank you more. I hope he knew the impact he had on the lives of his family. I'm glad that I got the chance to tell him that I loved him more than anyone else in the world. I'm mad as hell that cancer got him but I am eternally grateful to have been his granddaughter.
(I wrote this a while ago and was looking through my drafts. I debated whether or not I should post it but after penning an angry draft earlier about my shitty day I decided that love was better than anger.)