“Lost when the wind blows…”


I never had the opportunity to meet my grandfather. I had someone in my life who was like one, but was in fact, my grand-uncle. He was really kind and sweet, and taught me a lot about people and the world at a very young age. I can vividly recall our dinners, trips to the Falls and his warm smile. Unfortunately, I lost him a few years ago and it still really stings.

I often look at my parents and wonder when the day will come that I get to bless them with a child so that my kids can feel that kind of generational love. Of course, I might never get there. But this isn’t about me or my needs. It never really has been. Because I never had a chance to know my paternal grandfather, nor meet my maternal grandfather, I always love hearing stories from my dearest friends about their grandparents.

Six years ago today, my best friend lost his beloved grandpa. And today, after waking up from a dream of the best friend and I talking most jovially together, I thought of him. I thought of how he’s doing. How he’s been coping in these last few months.

You see, my best friend is the type to avoid talking about his pain with anyone. And even if he claims to open up to someone, he’s really not. There is more hidden beneath that exterior. And it’s just another reason why he loves to “disappear” and “reappear” like Harry Houdini from the lives of his friends. Or why he will sit quietly with clenched fists.

But no matter what he always felt and how pained he was, I was always the one to help him absorb it. I’m not sure why, but his disappointments, upset, anger, it always stuck with me and it wasn’t intentional, nor my duty to keep that side of him. But I think in some form through kismet and the will of God, we were always a sort of yin-yang. (And it was vice versa as days I was sad, he would absorb it and take away the pain.) Yet from my own experience, without any discomfort, I was able to reform his agony into a more acceptable guise like love and affection, laughter and jokes. Everything I did to help him when he fell was to be some sort of cushion for that descent he would find himself making.

Today, I think of my best friend and am crying in the midst of these words. I think about him and his grandpa, and pay my respects to his beloved “Papy.” From what my best friend told me, how he would beam at the mere conversation about him (or his grandmother, for that matter), I knew immediately of his Papy’s character, generosity, humility, and selflessness. I also knew how much my best friend looked up to him and his grandmother. I absolutely loved hearing all his stories and how they made him feel growing up. What a true blessing.

But after six years, while I know he has overcome majority of the grief, I know there is always a tinge of pain he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Knowing him for as long as I have, I know why he does it. It makes him feel separate from others, holding onto angst and pain in the littlest speckle, because his life is so monotonous. Holding onto angst feeds his drive to stay within boundaries and conform against the prospect of loss and abandonment. My best friend, stubborn in his ways, chooses to acquiesce rather than regard his family history as a paradigm for happiness, particularly that belief (and second chance) his grandpa and grandma met in all those years ago.

The day his world began breaking down in 2009 and then in 2010, when those two passed, all things soft and beautiful and bright that were a part of my best friend were buried with them. And since that day in 2010, my best friend today has changed. Slowly. In many ways, he grew inconsiderate over the years. When the winds of life made their way down his path, he lost parts of himself and became heartless towards me for showering him with an unparalleled love and care. However, without being mad at him or considering how much he broke my heart, I only wish him love and peace today. I also hope he realizes how hurtful he has been to me of all people he truly cared for in his life.

Nevertheless, as I think about my best friend today on the day of his grandpa’s passing, I also think about that dream I had during my best friend’s birthday month, which I still find incredibly odd. I had no business dreaming of his Papy, nor even feeling such an affinity to him since I never met him. I only ever met my best friend, so that still makes me wonder why. That said, I still ponder about the message of the dream back in December, especially that of the “children’s voices.” I mean, I wrote that post back in December, days before my best friend’s birthday. And consider that the cretin messaged me in February with what she did and now I wonder if I was onto something in a sixth sense sort of way. I wonder about the signs and if I’m just caught up in the light.

My psychic/medium friend who read for me back in 2010 (who I became friends with after the reading) always attributed my friendship with the best friend as a soulmate one (as did four other psychics my friends dragged me to). When I told her about the dream in December, she said the visitation was due to the mental connection of tied subconscious minds between my best friend and I. Yeah, I know. Life is odd, so who’s to say what is really true and what isn’t. I’m drinking a beer right now, but that sounds like an impossibility and kind of cuckoo even for me, a light drinker.

But what I do know is real is my continued love for him. That won’t ever quit no matter what. Day in and day out, I may not think of him as often thanks to being perhaps the busiest 30-year-old college student with two jobs, but that love lingers in the back of my mind like a continuing mist, brushing over me when I least expect. Moreover, if the dream I had last December was an indicator for the future and about reassurance or comfort in a time of need for the dreamer (yours truly) or him, I guess that’s a sign or anchor in coincidence, fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it as some sort of way for me knowing second chances are very real in this ever present world. Even if my best friend believes in it or not.

After all, when it comes to life, “there’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be…”


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