I was on the bus today, sitting and thinking.
I do that a lot on the bus because Im alone with my thoughts, and today something popped into my head that I have never thought of before even though I think about those sort of stuff a lot.
My grandfather
He runs around in my head a lot, I miss him plenty and it saddens me that the best I can do is remember him.
I will never be able to talk to him again.
But those are normal thoughts.
The weird thing that popped into my head is the way he died.
Not in the he died well, no suffering sort of way, but more of where, and HOW he died.
On a bus.
He was sitting there on his way to work and his heart just gave out.
He sat there just as I do.
Sitting, waiting to get to where ever he was going.
And thats it.
Its not like it messes with my own sense of mortality but more on a simple level.
On a bus.
I kept on saying that to myself all the way home.
On a bus.
Nothing romantic about it, no heroics no action.
On a bus.
I dont know why it popped into my head the way it did, but it sort of hit me like a bomb.
It didnt shake me inside, but surprised me that I never thought about it like that before.
I dont know, I still havent gotten to the bottom of why it was so shocking to me, and probably I will never quite understand.
But to be truthful, I dont want to let this unknown feeling go.
It sort of keeps the sting of his death in me, not subdued, not buried.
I know I will never forget him, but if I can feel something new about the whole thing, in some sick way I guess, I welcome it, embrace it.
On a bus
