It's just not getting better

I know he was 79. It was a couple of years coming. He was sick and not himself and he never would have wanted to be kept around that way. It doesn't make it easier.
I expected to have come to terms with his death. Instead I feel normal and fine til I remember his I want to tell him, til I miss him and look forward to visiting, or just remember in a split second the way he hugged or his smile. Then it comes rushing back that he's not going to be here to see my kids grow up, he can't greet me with a hug, he'll never be there again and it HURTS.
There's no warning, just a memory then pain. While my sister and her kids were here we went to dinner at a local place and there was only one other person there, sitting with his back to us. Amidst the chatter from the kids and the confusion about orders, I noticed my sister get very still and start to cry. She collected herself enough to tell me that her middle girl asked if she could go talk to Dandad and pointed to the other patron. I turned around and sure enough, he looked exactly like my Dandad from behind and, like my sister, I burst into tears.
One of the kids piped up right then to say he needed to go to the bathroom so we jumped at the chance to run off and clean our faces up. I cleaned up, saw her eyes and had to go hide in the stall and cry again.
I jsut can't get my heart to understand what my head knows - that he's gone and Ill never see him smile again or tell me how proud he is of me, never laugh and tell me how big the boys have gotten. I miss him for me, *I* want a hug, but more so, I miss him for my kids sake. They won't remember him and will miss out on such a great man in their lives.
I believe that everything happens for a reason. When we moved to Wyoming I thought it was beautiful. It didn't have greenery and trees and I seriously missed those, but the people were wonderful and it had it's own beauty. We could have been happy out there, but a couple of things went wrong and they snowballed til we were forced to scrape ourselves together and come home, tails tucked.
It gave me nearly 5 more years with Dandad. If we'd been in Wyoming still I wouldn't have been able to spend time with him while he still remembered me, he never would have known the younger two of his great grandsons, and I wouldn't have gotten to tell him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me.
Life is good, it really is. I love doing little bits here and there to make our new house a home. I love watching my kids grow. Family are far enough away to not rule my life, but close enough that I can go see them often. My grandparents were my example of a good marriage and my involvement with them, their home and farm, the family get-togethers... formed my life long goals. I wanted a big family and land enough to have my own giant garden, animals too. There is lots of work to do, but I have my dreams now. He was able to come visit us and he was so pleased.
The night we saw Dandad in the restaurant, we came home and put in a CD of kids music and danced for a half hour with all 6 of the older kids while the youngest slept and their daddies watched us in amusement. It occurred to me and my sister at the same moment that we were building the memories of the next generation. WE were now the parents and someday the grandparents. We were having our family gatherings, big dinners, twilight games of hide-and-seek, sleepovers and playing games while the grown ups talked and laughed.
It was a good moment, a great feeling to realize that while Dandad is gone, his memory and his influence never will be. Maybe someday I'll stop crying when I remember he's not here anymore. In the meantime I will content myself that I know he was happy with he life he saw us building and would approve mightily.