I've come to realise that I enjoy writing here, even with the absence of others viewings. This small white box is a better way of revealing my thoughts and feelings than any counselor, little notebook, or saliva soaked pillow that I've ever had.
Anyways, today I was going through some old photographs with my favourite songs keeping me company. There were photos of cousins, uncles, aunts, old friends that I've long since lost contact with, but they had no real impact on me. No one felt missed, and I had no remorse for not speaking to or seeing them in years. That changed in what was basically an instant.
I happened upon a photograph of my grandfather, one of the greatest men I've ever had the pleasure to know. He helped me through so much; confidence to be a musician, to keep an open mind, to not hate through prejudice or any means, my sobriety, and most of all, keeping me alive. This one man has had such a severe impact on me that I'd be dead of not for him. I instantly broke down into a sob, not for the fact that I miss him, which I do, but for the fact that I never said goodbye.
The man who helped me retrieve my life, my passion, and my spirit laid alone o his death bed. He asked me to come say a few words just for a casual conversation, but like many teenagers, we're always so "busy". I regret that one thing so much, and I've never gotten over it until today. I can't change the past, so why revel in it? I love him to this day and hope he knows that he was my life. Requiescat in Pace, Ernesto.