At 17, I lost my grandpa, who was much more than just a relative; he was my best friend throughout my teenage years. He was an extraordinary 82-year-old with a zest for life and a passion for vintage cars.
Many of my cherished memories stem from weekends at his place, where we tinkered with his prized car, sharing laughs and adventures—even the occasional mishaps like spilling oil or nicking the red paint on his Chevy Bel Air.
These weekends were filled with more than just fun; they were rich in laughter and bonding experiences. Grandpa always stocked the ashtray with candies instead of cigarettes, sweetening our moments together.
The news of his passing broke me. As my mother relayed the news, a deep sadness enveloped me. In the days that followed, I felt a chill of isolation, not understanding the distancing until I confronted my mother.
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