7 Years Ago

Seven Years ago, I was eleven years old.
Seven Years ago, I received my first sketch book.
Seven Years ago, I heard Amazing Grace played on the violin for the first time in my life.
Seven Years ago, my life changed.
Seven Years ago, I stood grave side, listened to Pastor Keller say "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
Seven Years ago, I buried my grandfather.
Seven is not my lucky number.

My grandfather died seven years ago at the age of 63, he was a very sick man despite the fact I never knew exactly what he had and to this day I still don't. I do know that after having several close calls he decided to sign a DNR form. Most of my life he was ill, but that never stopped him from doing what he wanted. I always thought eleven years was never enough, that it was unfair for him to die and I still don't think that eleven years is enough time to get to know someone. But here's some memories from my eleven years with someone I love very much.

I was the first grandchild, my mother became pregnant at 18 years old and her parents were not impressed. (Abortion was never an option with my mother). On the day I was born all my grandfather's doubts, worries and fears vanished. I was the ultimate golden child and up until a few years ago, I could do no wrong. At a few weeks old, my grandparents wanted to take me to Florida. My mother objected. As an infant, I would sleep all day, and be awake all night, that problem was easily "fixed" by my grandparents, particularily by grandmother.
My grandfather used to work at Shuh Memorials and my uncles lived in a house two doors down from Shuh Memorials. When I was a toddler, I would visit my grandpa at work where bananas, Ritz Crackers and Del Monte Fruit Punch were always on hand. I hated bananas (still do, actually) and he would always want me to eat bananas but I never did. His friend, owned Theo Motors across the street and I would go to get balloons. Sometimes, when I'm riding the bus I'm tempted to go get more balloons. One time, the dog ate the eye off my bear and my grandpa had to glue the eye back on and needless to say Ted still has one crusty eye.
Whenever I was sick and my mom wasn't home, I would spend the day with my grandpa or my uncles at their house. I always had fun despite the fact I was playing in an office were they sold memorials for the dead. Kinda creeps me out now.
When I was in kindergarten, my class performed a song for the school recital and for the majority of the performance my grandfather filmed the wrong kid but I never held it against him.
He used to give the best gifts. When I was little, he bought me my own patio set. He also bought me a jacket, that had a doll wearing the same outfit. I think my grandma still has a doll at her house.
My grandpa used to stop by when he could still drive and sometimes he'd bring candy. I remember the one car he had, had the buttons on the door so you could lock/unlock the car door. I thought that was so cool, like he was a spy or somebody extremely important. I always wanted to know the code but he never told me.
When my grandpa couldn't work any more I would go to the house and we would build mazes with dominos. My grandma didn't want us to do that on her glass table but we never listened.

Some days, I am still tempted to pick up the phone and call my grandpa. There are so many things that I wish he was here to see. There are so many things I have to tell him. There are so many things he's missed. After seven years, it's still hard to live my life without him. All I have left are memories - eleven years of memories. Is it enough?