when i walked in, i was fine.

when that god damned scent hit me, i was still holding it together.

when i saw my sister sitting on the same couch we sat on together at my sisters funeral, i was still holding it together.

when the masons did their ceremony, i was fine.

but when that old man began talking about my grandfather, when he started to tear up, thats when it hit me.

this man, my grandfather, was a damn great man, and a testament to that fact was another grown man doing his best to not cry over his death.

then the ceremony was over. they cleared away from the coffin.

i walked up there, stood by myself.

the tears which had been resting on my eyelashes started to move.

but still, i think i was fine even then.

i was fine until this lady came up behind me, put her hand on my back, told me:

"do you know how special you were to him? he was very very proud of you. he got to watch you grow up..."

and there i lost it. as soon as she said he was proud of me. i lost it.

and i was so damn alone at that moment.

my mom rescued me.

she came from around my side and i just collapsed into her.

she asked if i needed to go outside, i nodded, and took off.

down the hall. out the double doors. around the side of the building.

leaned against the wall.

my mom followed me. she asked me if i needed to be alone, i said yeah, she went back around the corner.

i fell to the ground.

and i sat there crying.

this man, this great man, he was the only member in my family i never worried about being proud of me, or making them not like me, or whatever little unsecure children think.

i always knew, with him, that he was proud. that he loved me.

and that's a gift i never repaid to him.

that's a gift i can't explain.

that's a gift i carry inside of me.

later, after visitation, i called the girl.

she said:

"he's still proud of you."

and i smiled. told her i knew.

and i do know.

grandpa.

thank you.