Papa was an excellent gardener

Today is a bittersweet day; today would have been Papa's 77th Birthday. 

I remember joking with him during what would turn out to be his last summer that we should have a HUGE party to celebrate the 77th Birthday. He laughed it off and we went back to shooting the breeze. I miss his laughter, his hugs, his funny jokes, phone calls prodding me to return calls; the list could go on for miles. Above all, I just miss him. I miss being able to tell him things, ask for advice and let him know just how much I love him. 

In recent days I have felt increasingly guilty for all of the times that I didn't return phone calls, went home from my grandparent's house a bit earlier so I could take care of some menial task. I feel guilty that during my last summer with him, I was so devastated with my own personal situation, that I felt paralyzed. Papa gave me the most comfort during that trying time when he randomly called me up (and when I wasn't really in the mood to talk to ANYONE about my issues---except my therapist) and said the following: "I don't know how to help you not hurt anymore by this, Vanessa. Just please know that I hurt for you."

Today, I am hurting for him; longing for him. In my head, I know that Papa is in a better place and is no longer suffering here on Earth. I hope he knew how much I loved him and how much I appreciated everything he ever did for me. 

I will end this with a quote that I find particularly comforting:

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." -Marcel Proust

Papa was an excellent gardener.