A Decade

When you're young, a decade seems an unimaginably enormous amount of time. The eighties, for example, were pretty much my whole childhood. It seemed almost unfathomably long. When I would look ahead 10 years, I would think, "My God, I'll be so old then. That will be so weird."

That perspective changes over time, of course. Now, when I look back 10 years, it seems like yesterday, in so many ways. That's especially key today, the 10th anniversary of my grandfather's death. Now, it seems inconceivable that it's already been a decade. It's gone by so quickly. Nearly everything about my life that could've changed in that 10 years has. So much has happened. And yet, I remember that day as vividly as if it were yesterday. And I miss him as if he'd just been gone a short time, rather than 10 years.

It's so strange to think that someone who was so very important to me has been gone almost a third of my life, now. But the 23 years he was in it must have been more formative, I think, because he shaped such a huge part of who I became, even after he was gone. I've written here numerous times about the ways he impacted my life, and the ways he taught me what to expect from life and love.

Even since he's been gone, he continues to be so important to me. I talk to him about the important things, and at the times I need him, I know he's there. Still, what I wouldn't give to have him here in the physical realm, to hug me, to rub my head, to tell me everything will be ok. I miss that.

I realize, of course, that grandparents are generally only in our lives for the first bit of it. That's the nature of generational divides, isn't it? I realize that the death of an 85 year old grandfather is not a tragedy. But losing someone who means so much to you always hurts, doesn't it? And you always miss those people, don't you?

So, today, on the 10th anniversary of his leaving his physical life, I'd just like to tell him what I tell him most days, anyway. I love you, Buck. Thank you.