That you could just say how you feel. Say what you mean. But sometimes I am not sure if it will be words coming out of my mouth or my afternoon snack.
I will just say it right now. I believe I have said it before, but I am so AWFUL with communication. I have never been able to tell anyone how I actually felt or what I was really thinking in that very moment. I bottle everything in and then I explode. I wish I were different. I really do, but I'm not.
I can truthfully say that I have missed out on some insanely incredible people because I couldn't open my dang mouth. Instead, I turn around and run.
I regret the stuck zipper I have for a mouth. I regret it every single time I watch someone walk away. Luckily I tend to bounce back pretty quickly. But today is the day I might just regret it the most.
As I watched the man who taught me to always speak kindly, speak gently, but talk truthfully lay helpless in his bed, I STILL couldn't say everything that I wanted to. I could only stare at him and whisper "I love you".
But I also feel that those three words summed up my entire life of memories with him.
Those three words equate the day I learned how to drive a stick shift on his lap in the Wagner gold Chevy '82 pickup truck. They captured how incredibly grateful I was that he knew I could never unhook the fish I just reeled in because they were too "icky" to touch. They reminded him of the day that the two of us sat in the canoe with my mother as we pointed and laughed at my father, sister and cousin tip over their canoe right beside us. Those words offered him my memories of the days he took me out hunting, the mornings we hiked in to fish at Lake Marie and the evenings we climbed up the fire tower to watch the sunsets. The words brought back the days that he and my grandmother would pick me up from school and drive straight to the ice cream shop for the signature pistachio scoop or the occasional Rocky Road. Those words sparked a picture of the day he taught me how to jump off the diving board without fear. Poor guy couldn't drag me out of the pool that afternoon.
Those were the words I wanted to say. I wanted to thank him for the greatest childhood memories. I wanted to thank him for being the most genuine human being because his smile was contagious. I wanted to thank him for his story telling, because I was obsessed with listening to him. He spoke with such enthusiasm towards everything. But instead only three little words came out. The most important ones. If my grandfather taught me anything it was to speak kindly. He is the most honest, generous, graceful man I have had the pleasure to learn from. He always spoke with such power. It was the most gentle power. He is so truthful. If anything, THAT is what I want to take from him. His heart. It's huge, and he could say everything that's in it with such ease. He is a true gentleman.
So it really does start here. I will use my words. All of them. Because it actually is that simple. I will choose to speak kindly, gently and so truthfully, like I was taught from the very beginning. And to all of you who I have lost because I had no words, only the wrong action to run, I am truly sorry. I am (we all are) a constant work in progress. This is just my next step.
Until next time,
xx
Kelsey
