Dear Diary...

Tonight I miss my Grandpa alot. Listening to Patsy Cline always reminds me of him, the way he was before his stroke. He was all about garage sales and building things in his basement (he was about 80% blind [and still drove a Buick]) and he smelled like Afta and toast. His hair was greasy with brillcream and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses. When I was little he taught me how to play Rummy, Blackjack, Poker, etc and when I was older, much to my Grandmother's chagrine, told me dirty jokes. He had a stroke and remained paralysed in a nursing home for 11 years. He died a year ago and I didn't make it to the funeral as my baby was only 2 weeks old. I wonder if I'm lacking the closure of a service? I still feel horribly guilty for not visiting more. It was like it wasn't him anymore. He had a short attention span and couldn't do most of the things I remembered him for. I was sad when he died, but relieved -both for him and my Grandma. More guilt about that? Maybe. The last thing he mentioned was the baby. Papa and I shared a birthday. I just wanted to get this down. For myself.
Memories and sad feelings are healthy once in a while and it's important to "enjoy" them. Any teenage girl who's ever sang-cried to a rock ballad over and over again will agree. These moments are to be savoured!
It's probably not super good news that I cry over my cat that died 3 years ago every time I try to sing along to Dreamer by Supertramp.

Don't judge me.