A Love Letter

Pain is a constant companion and isn't a very good one. I try to reason with it, and I end up
feeling miserable. I cannot help but think about you. You who had so much to give and share
with me.
Even when I was young, you were a constant figure. You were there to see me grow up. I
cried, I laughed, I learned, and you were there to guide me. With your gray hair and chunky
glasses, I would watch you think and brood, and your sudden smile would light up your face
as quickly as it came.
That is the very thing I love about you. Your smile.
I think about the times I missed being with you. So many years have passed since I saw you
again, and for a brief moment, I imagined you not being in my life. I wanted to cry. But I knew
you would be there, as you always were. The gray hair has turned to white, and with that
came a wiry frame that was fragile. Still the eyes were as vibrant as ever, and a mind that
was well-running.
You taught me to be strong and live for my dreams. With your voracious hunger for
knowledge you taught me to love learning; always telling me that knowledge is a constant
thing. You were so strong, so wise and your presence was always a comfort. I always loved
being by your side. You always gave me a hug when I felt down. I never loved crowds, and
you always seemed to understand that, not pressuring me to joining the others or pretend to
have a good time.
I get lost in the books you taught me to read. Those books which you gave me to learn more
about the world, to never give up on things, to help me know myself and more. I read them
constantly, ever so often reminded of the things you taught me. You always loved books.
You never said much, but I always knew that every time we saw each other, you were glad
to see me. As I always am glad to see you.
I remember you with a teary face and a wistful smile. My pain is more insistent as I try to
hold on to the hope that you will pull through this, like the strong person that you are.
I love you, grandpa.