Every Year

I was driving to my bootcamp class this evening, when I very suddenly had an awful feeling, in the pit of my stomach that nearly took my breath away and left me with a pain in my gut.
I found myself wondering, what on earth could make me feel this way, and before I could even finish thinking those words, I remembered.
I remembered that around this time, the holiday season, seven years ago, seven years ago, was the time that you were ill and eventually passed.
It still seems fresh, and raw, even after all these years.
I still remember driving, every weekend for seven hours, for weeks and weeks, just to see you for a few days.
I would give almost anything to spend all my weekends driving, however far it be, to see you again.
I remember praying harder and more than I ever had before.  Praying that you would get better.  Praying that you wouldn't suffer anymore, but that you would recover and come home.  Praying that this wasn't your time, because you're one of the good ones.
I remember and feel the pain as if it happened yesterday.

I wish that you could have met my husband, and our beautiful children.  One of whom is named after you.
I wish that you could have met all the new members of our family.
I wish that you were here with us, instead of in heaven watching over us.

The songs they played at your funeral, I Can Only Imagine and Silent Night, still bring tears to my eyes in an instant.
It's true that time heals, but time doesn't forget, and I'm grateful for that.
I will never, ever forget you.

I miss you Grandpa, and I love you.