July 2 was always a happy day.
It's the day my grandpa was born in 1922 and he is probably the happiest, jolliest, most fun-loving person I've ever known. My family used to congregate on this day to celebrate -- and my grandpa would always insist that we celebrate the entire month.
Since losing him nearly nearly three years ago, July 2 is a bittersweet day. I love remembering him but it still hurts so badly to know he's gone.
My family knows that if we had to lose him, we are blessed in how it happened. He didn't suffer and nothing was left unsaid. He knew we loved him and he sure as heck told us and showed us that he loved us.
He was many things for many people. But for me, the way he lived his life is a perfect lesson in the importance and beauty and simplicity of letting people know you love them. Showing love doesn't have to be complicated. It doesn't have to be grand. It can be little. But when it's constant, it feels anything but small.
Happy birthday, Grandpa. I love you.
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