Eighteen years ago today

Eighteen years ago today my grandfather died. I can’t remember ever
being aware of this on any of the previous 25th’s of June. Except for when it actually happened.

Eighteen years seems like a lifetime. I had just turned five. It was in a day and age that when somebody was told that they would make it through the night, the small child was whisked away to be with family members. Or does that still happen? I don’t know. All I know is that when the night fell, he was still here and I wasn't there.

Sunday came and I had to get back home for school. My grandpa was still alive. That night, my mother told me, she brought me to see my grandpa again before I went to bed. Later that night I woke up. During the few hours that I slept my grandpa had died and they had taken him to the funeral home across the street. I remember starring out of the window, looking at it. The lights were on to let the town know that somebody was there, that somebody had died. He wasn’t gone, he was just no longer within reach.

And I wonder how something that happened so long ago can suddenly feel so raw. And how i can remember so much of that time and the years before., but not remember his voice nor his presence.