Lost.

This is without a doubt the easiest and hardest of the May writing prompts to write so far. In a nutshell, I miss my grandparents. Last year I lost my Nonno and my grandma within a span of 5 months, but perhaps the one that will always haunt me will be my papa.

My grandpa's passing was my first loss as an adult, and sadly I wasn't given a chance to say goodbye. I was definitely my papa's girl. He always made me laugh, called me silly nicknames, and I never once failed to know how much he loved me.

 We were very close with my mom's parents growing up - they lived 10 minutes away from us - so whenever we were sick they would come over to sit with us and watch TV. Wednesday nights was dinner at papa and grandma's house and usually consisted of homemade pasta with sauce and chicken. If I ever needed rescuing from my little sister's antics I was whisked away for a sleepover at their house, complete with old western movies and snuggling on the sofa.

At school events, the times I would work in retail, my first time going to Europe, made up for school dances, my first time altar servering and up until my high school graduation there they were, cheering me on from the front row and sometimes wiping away a tear or two because he was so proud.

I hate how he didn't get to see me graduate college because he was so sick, and even more sad that he wasn't able to be there on my wedding day. But the day I walked across the stage to get my diploma and the day I got married I had photos of both of them with me. I hate how I never got to show him my photos from my big trip to Italy. I hate how I never say goodbye, to tell him how much I love(d) him, how much he meant to me and that him leaving has left a hole in my heart that will never heal, that he meant the world to me and he was the best grandpa I could've ever asked for, that I hope I make him proud. I try to console myself and tell him he wouldn't want me to be sad, but there are some days and some times in my life that it's just so overwhelming, that I'm so overwhelmed with grief and dispair and feeling lost because I don't get to share these successes and goals and dreams and my first year of marriage with him.

Perhaps what I miss the most are all the small things I wish I could show my future kids. His calloused hands from working in his wood shop, the beautiful garden at his house, his homemade food, his laugh, his accent, the way he still looked at my grandma after over 60 years of marriage and how he came to America at age 17 on a boat alone without knowing any English, and made an amazing, successful life for him and my grandma.

So, in a nutshell, I miss my papa.

Every day.