Has it really been that long?

I realized today that my Grampa has been gone for 3 months yesterday. It's a weird feeling, like he's been gone forever. We've carried on like normal ever since he passed, but I notice the emptiness in this house. The void he left that no one else can fill in and I wonder how we've managed to live with that all this time.

I think of him a lot, and I miss him terribly. I can still see him at the kitchen table reading newspaper as I go down the stairs on Sunday morning. I can still see him sitting by the window in his room reading a book, the same way I like to sit by the window and read my book. I can still see him sleeping on his bed when I woke him up to say goodbye before I left to New York, I told him I'll be back in August and I'll see him then. I can still see him nodded and said my name when Gramma asked if he knew who I was when I flew back from New York for that one fateful weekend. I can still see him lying unmoved when I confirmed his death after Gramma woke me up at 6 am that morning to come look at him because he wasn't moving. And I can still feel how cold his skin was when I held his hands for one last time before they took him away to the funeral home.

I wonder how would it be had I not gone to New York for the internship. Would I catch him getting sicker sooner? Would this turn out differently? I know I'm not to blame, it happened the way it's meant to happen, but I just wonder.... I don't know why this hits me harder 3 months later. Maybe because I thought he'd be here still? That I'd see him in his room when I came back from New York like I told him before I left?

The house is quieter without him. I miss hearing the Chinese music coming out of his room, I miss hearing his voice, his conversation with Gramma. He's a great man, my Grampa. I just wish he could tell me what he's been doing in heaven....