four years to long.

I've been thinking lately about a fellow who passed 4 years ago, and his name was Roy Edward Parker.

my grandpa.

He was nothing but a blessing, and a living example of a miracle, and a true follower of Christ. He suffered from emphysema; a form of COPD,  or in other words destruction of the lungs due to smoking. it is incurable, one of the most dreaded words to hear. He had had it before i was born, he had emphysema around 20 years; he was truly a survivor. He had made it through the Vietnam war, and many years in the army. He died at the age of 62, young huh? He was an English whiz, he read books faster than anyone I knew and could complete the hardest crossword puzzle in five minutes. To me he was the smartest, bravest, and funniest guy ever. I  looked up to him so much, he used to tell me I brought him so much joy. I used to make him laugh, and he would start coughing and it broke my heart to see that he couldn't even have a chuckle without struggling. How terrible would that be, to know you couldn't have a good genuine laugh without the pain and shortness of breath.. i would come home and run straight to his room, and he was always sitting in his chair waiting on me. I would fix him mountain dew, thats all he drank. He had Denver Bronco playing cards, that no one could touch but me and him. He would always ask me,

"what'd you learn at school today?"

"nothing," i would always say.

"you have to have learned something, im 62 years old and i learn something every day; you're never to old to learn"

That was a common conversation we shared.

i would go in there and play super mario brothers on nintendo with him, and loved every second of it.

mom picked me up from their (my grandparents) house one day, just like every other, and took me home, i woke up the next morning, dying for school to pass by fast just so i could get to their house; when a unusual call came. My mom bursted into tears, threw on her shoes and busted out the door, not even bothering to tell me what the matter was; about fifteen unbearable minutes passed when she walked in slowly and said, 

"hes gone." in such a soft voice. 

"who mom who?! tell me.." i wanted to know so bad, but i knew the words that were about to come out were going to change my life one way or another.

"papa," she said, choking on  words.

not even a millisecond later tears came pouring down my face.. we rushed to what was now my grandmas house, and everyone was crying, my two aunts and my uncle and my poor grandma. everyone looked at me as i walked in, i walked straight into his room just like i would any other day, but not near as enthusiastic, i knew what was waiting for me. I saw him laying in his bed, just like an angel; thats what he was to me, and angel.I lost my breath and started doing that choking thing you do when you cry, i ran to my grandma cried in her arms while the paramedics checked him, they pronounced him dead that morning. Some mysterious people took him away, people that i didn't know. the funeral rolled around, and the burial service. that killed me, seeing him being put in something that means so little (dirt) killed me; But i knew deep in my heart that he was in a glorious place and someday i'd see him again, cause i know he's waiting for me. 

he was gone, and i didn't even get to say bye. 

The next weeks were hard, walking in and not seeing his smiling face waiting for me, it killed me.

one day, i was at my grandmas house, she was cooking a big supper as usual, i don't know who for though, she was alone there the nights my sister and i didn't spend the night there, i got down the tray that i always put his food on and put food on it just like i did every day, fixed him a mountain dew, just like i did every day; i walked back there feeling like it was just a regular day, i walked in and he wasn't there.. i sat the tray down and sat in his chair and cried.

Now, here I am, four years later, and I have literally been to his grave site roughly ten times, and most of those were the few months right after he died.. I never talked about my feelings to anyone, I just cried. I was in the sixth grade so I didn’t understand as much as I do now. I haven’t been to his gravesite in about 3 years, and im afraid to ask my grandma cause I know exactly what she will say, “I don’t want to hurt stewarts feelings” stewart is her boyfriend. So my goal for January is to go see him.

I miss him so much, but I cherish every second I spent with him.

He’s my angel, and I know he’s watching over me.

Once my grandma gives me his military picture ill put it up, he was one hott kid! (: