My Bapou is gone

This is my Bapou. It's pronounced Baa-poo and means Grandpa in greek.

He passed away this weekend. I still can hardly believe it. We're all shocked and devastated.

I woke up at 7:30am to the doorbell ringing. I jumped out of bed and answered the door to find my Mom standing there. I instantly knew something was wrong. She just said "Bapou had a stroke baby. We lost him." All I remember after that is falling back on the stairs, bawling and yelling "no! no! no!" We lost my Yia Yia (Grandma in greek) a little over a year ago. That too was sudden and completely unexpected and absolutley heart wrenching. I think my Bapou died from a broken heart. He missed his wife so much and was so terribly lonely without her. I know he's happy now that they are reunited.

It's shocking to think that my Mom has lost both her parents. Can you imagine what that must feel like? I can't.

How does this happen? It's funny because you acknowlwdge yourself getting older, but not those around you. I know that I have grown older because I graduated from high school, went to college, had relationships, fell in love with Matty, got engaged etc. Those things happen through out the years. But I never really wanted to think about "if I'm getting older, than so are my parents, and my grandparents." Death is inevitable. But loss is just the most horrible things to go through. My Dad's Mom is still alive and I love her so much. I know I'm lucky to have had as many grandparents as I did for so long, and I'm so thankful for that.

My Bapou was an amazing man. He always had these sparkling eyes and sweet smile. He was like a big teddy bear. I'm so glad he came out to see us last summer. (He lives in London.) He got to meet Matt and spend some time with all of us. He told us these amazing stories of when he was a young man and the experiances that he had. He's a huge fan of John Wayne and cowboy movies. Matt bought him this awesome cowboy hat and he loved it so much. My Mom said she's going to put it in the coffin with him.

The selfish part of me is so desperately sad that he's gone. I spent all of Saturday at my Mom and Dads house. I booked my Mom on a flight for London that night and we all just kind of tried to hold it together. That night I had a girls night planned. All my homies and I were going dancing and it had been planned for months. Of course my first, second and third thought was to back out and just stay home. I had spent all day mourning with my family, and at some point I decided that it couldn't be possible. He's in London right now, watching his John Wayne movies and walking around the garden. How could he be gone? I just talked to him.

Denial work wonders.

And so I went out with my girls. I had a good time dancing and was quickly reminded how well alcohol can numb your thoughts and feelings. I put the whole thing out of my mind, because I truly wanted to believe that he was still alive. If I was sitting around crying, then that means it was true. If I'm out on the town, then he must still be alive because only a cold hearted, selfish bitch would go out on the same day she finds out she lost her Bapou.

I got home around 2am and the rain was coming down. I lay down on my bed, and all of sudden I started to really accept that he had passed away. I needed Matty and needed to feel him lying next to me. But he was at his house a few blocks away and I couldn't drive anywhere. (Now is not the time for a DUI.) I sent him a text message and told him I was going to walk over to his place so I could see him. Yes it was raining, but I didn't care. I figured it would sober me up. Unbelievably, Matty woke up, text me right back and said "stay where you are, I'm on my way." I walked downstairs, lit a cigarette and waited. Out of the darkness came his headlights. He pulled up, threw passengernger side door open and took me back to his house. I crawled into bed, felt his arms close around me and proceeded to cry my heart out. I finally let the realization sink in that my Grandpa was gone. And it hurt like hell.