Loss

I’ve never been good at dealing with loss. The first person that I had die on me was my grandfather who died when I was in first grade. I don’t really remember him all that well and to be honest he really wasn’t that great of a man. He was an alcoholic, he cheated on my grandmother, he was emotionally and physically abusive to his kids, and at one point he even tried to shot my uncle. But these were all details that I learned at an older age, so as a child I remember thinking that I was the luckiest girl in the world cause my granpa was awesome.
I have always thought that my lack of ability of dealing with death had to do with the last time that I saw my grandfather. That day for some reason I was really angry and I took it out on him. Before he left I refused to give him a hug or say goodbye. A few days later my mom got a call from my dad that my grandfather had died. He had had a heart attach while driving and his car went into a river and he drowned. For the next nine years I cried myself to sleep almost every night while I asked God to give me one last chance to see him, to apologize and to tell him I loved him. To this day I still feel a bit of anger towards myself and although I know he knew I loved him, it still hurts to know that my last encounter with him was so unpleasant.