On What I've Learned From Those Who've Left

On January 13th, my family and I lost our matriarch. We're lucky in that my Grandma was 86, and lived most of those many years in great spirits. We are also lucky that people came from ten different states to bid her goodbye and show us support. It doesn't surprise me that so many people wanted to pay her homage. I was fortunate enough to know her well. She was as loyal as they come, a willing listener, a dispenser of brutally honest,and heartfelt advice, the life of MANY parties, and a rock for her husband, children and grandchildren. She was my sister and my last grandparent; we'll miss her and think of her more than daily.

The romantic in me wants to believe that she and my Grandpa are in a paradise  just above us, drinking martinis,laughing, kissing, and maybe occasionally exchanging a word or two with our other friends and relatives who have previously passed away. The realist in me says, this might be it. Maybe my aunt, my uncle, my mom's infant brother and sister, my grandma, her friends, my grandpa, his friends, maybe they're gone. The writer in me takes comfort in the fact, that as long as I am telling stories, they'll be in the minds whoever chooses to read my self-involved nostalgia. If they are gone though,that means,we have one chance to be the kind of character other people want to cast as the good guys in their prose.I'm 24, and I really don't have any right to tell others how to live, but I know the things that make my deceased friends and family the protagonists in my mind, and it's my blog so I'll be sharing those.

• My Grandma appreciated a well crafted joke, and made everybody believe they were interesting. 
• She took pride her appearance, both physically and socially. She was always well put together and kept private what needed to be kept private. 
• My Grandpa never failed to look on the bright-side, and saw fun around every corner.
• They were both fierce friends, and never put up with anybody speaking ill of those dear to them (even if they spoke ill of them sometimes).  
• My Dad's brother Johnny, never spoke ill of anybody.
• My dad's sister Eileen, didn't give much thought to what others might say about her, which is what made her so hilarious. 
• None of them ever missed a chance to toast to something magnificent. 

I could go on and on about what I've learned from these, and other people who are no longer with us, but it all boils down to three things. Be good. Ensure that you have a better time than you think possible, and be you. There's a unfortunate and large possibility this is your only shot.