The death of a family member is a weird occurrence. Besides causing many different emotions, it can also really make a person think. Even if the person doing the thinking never had a good relationship with the person who recently did the dying.

This past Wednesday my grandfather died. It would be inaccurate to say that we just weren’t close. The truth was we made it a point to keep our distance from one another. We never saw anything that happened or anyone in our overlapped lives the same way. In many ways it felt as though he and I lived in two different worlds. My initial reaction to his death was anger. I told my father that I felt as though my grandfather had never given me anything and that because of this I felt I didn’t owe him anything in return.

My grandfather had in fact slipped money into every card for every birthday I’ve had in my twenty years. My grandfather had signed his name to many checks given to me on many Christmases. When I spoke to my father, I meant that my grandfather had never given me his love. He had never given me his admiration. The man had seldom ever even given me his full attention.

I’ve been thinking about what I might feel when I get down to the end of my life. I’ve been thinking about what I hope I will feel and the path I will take in life that might lead me to that end. There are so many things I want to do and roles that I want to fill.

After my anger subsided, I felt a little lost. I sat down and impulsively began to scribble a list of things I want to do in my life. There were things like going to Maine with Amy and hiking and kayaking there together. Things like going to lots of concerts and art museums and *~movies~* with Kate. There were also bigger things to do on my list, like being the absolute best God Mother/Fake Aunt for Amy’s kids as I possibly can.

I will never have the built in grandparent/grandkid relationship. But I hope to do infinitely better than my grandfather did with me. When I die, I hope that Amy’s kids will feel like I really did give them all the things my grandfather never gave me. I hope they will remember the games and recitals I went to, the water balloons I threw at them, the cuts I bandaged for them, the places I took them, the closets I checked for monsters and the silly pictures we took together. Most of all I hope they will remember the times I will spend truly listening with every fiber of my being to whatever they want to say to me.

My grandfather’s death has made me reevaluate my life and the things I hope to do in it. Most of all, his death has made me grateful for the friends I love dearly and the ever-expanding life that I already have. Because of this, I realize that my grandfather has given me very much.