You don't have to forget to forgive.

My grandfather's death a few weeks ago has done something really strange.

I was really close to Grandpa... He was one of the very few people who realized what a big hole my dad left behind and made every effort to fill in as much as he could for us. I always felt like I could tell him anything (really, anything) and he'd never judge me or think poorly of me. He was really good at that, at making you feel welcome and loved and putting a positive spin on things. Sure, there were times when we had disagreements, but not a day went by that I doubted he loved me.

In a way, since he's been with me for so long, I have more of him to miss than I do of my dad. At first I was a little scared that it would be even harder. But somehow it's much, much easier. He was sick and uncomfortable and elderly...when he died it was very much his time. And he was ready. And I saw it coming for a long time, and I shared so much with him and my time with him was so good that I was ready too. This seems to be a common theme--my grandmother, my mom, my sister all say they feel the same way. It's unexpectedly easy to let him go.

The strange thing I mentioned earlier is that this loss has made my dad's death easier. It's like a bookend to years of emptiness and rage and disappointment and frustration. Experiencing the peaceful and completely expected death of someone close to me has really helped me see death with a new perspective. As if Death and I have decided to kiss and make up.

I'm experiencing a new serenity I've never felt before. And it feels good, like I've got a better handle on this life thing than ever. It's like Grandpa's still sneaking presents to me when nobody's looking.