Almost a year has gone by since his passing. But what is a year? Some people say that a year is 525,600 minutes and that it should be measured in love. But what is love? A book that I studied stated that, Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. I continues to say, When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Yet I am 19. Not fully a man and no longer a child. Should I hold on to my childish ways and continue to wish that he would return? Or should I take hold of adulthood and continue on telling myself that there is nothing I can do about it? The book stated that love rejoices with the truth. But the truth of this makes my heart feel pain. For this has been a year of pain. Of longing. Of wishing I had been there. Wishing that I had been there to say, Farewell.
R.I.P. Grandpa 12/24/29-12/20/08
*references for the poem are RENT and The Bible NIV translation
R.I.P. Grandpa 12/24/29-12/20/08
*references for the poem are RENT and The Bible NIV translation
