Since my grandpa died in November, I have been to the cemetery a number of times to visit his grave. The first time I went alone. I felt as though I needed that time for just us. Every other time I've gone with someone: my parents, my aunt, my grandma... But today, I went alone again. I went alone because I knew that today was going to be the first time I would see his headstone. As soon as I pulled up to the plot I began sobbing (much like I am doing right now as I write this). Sure I had seen the little sign the funeral home marked the grave with, but seeing his name so permanent like that hurt. Standing in the rain with huge tears coming down my face wishing I could do something to keep him and his stone dry, I had never felt so alone in my life. I was in the cold all by myself, and all I wanted was him. I wanted him to take my hand and tell me everything would be OK. Sometimes I see him in my dreams, but I'd give anything to have him walk in the backdoor the next time I'm at their house. To have him walk inside in his dirty overalls and hat, rub his wiskers on my face and then me tease him about needing a hair cut. God how I long to have that back. Seeing that big, cold, wet stone there today hit me in a way I don't think I was ready for. It made me realize "My gramps is really gone."