yeah, it's long

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if my morfar (mother's father) hadn't died when I was 15. I have a feeling it would have been different. For one thing, he wouldn't have allowed me to work in the kitchen as long as I did. He would have pushed me to excel. Where my parents have always hampered their children, teaching us to be sensible to the point of not taking (and being afraid to take) any risks, which in turn has allowed us to not live up to our potential, Morfar would have pushed me. He would have found it unacceptable that such a brilliant mind was being wasted in a trained monkey job.
Morfar was determined that I go to a top private college. He felt I had the brains to measure up to any competition. He would have loved that I spent a year in Sweden at Bible school, but when I came back, he would've made sure I was all business. If I then decided not to pursue speech pathology, he would've made sure I found something else.
Outside of school and work, Morfar would've encouraged me to have deep discussions. He would've liked to see me have fun (he had a sense of humor and all that), but he would've wanted me to move beyond frivolity. He and I would have engaged in discussions (perhaps in French, perhaps in Swedish, perhaps in English) that built me up. He was a man of such Bible-learning and integrity, he would've encouraged the same in me.
Mostly, I can't help but think, that in losing him, I lost the one person who would understand me better than any other. Morfar was a thinker. Don't get me wrong - all my friends are smart and deep and all that (and I love that about all of you), but I always feel like, I don't know, there's no one who understands the way my brain works. Like I'm different. Like my brain wasn't made for this era. (Maybe that's my big connection to Tolkien, too. One, because his brain was of a different era, but two, also my understanding of him when he felt like his brain was from a different era.)
After Morfar died, it took me 15 years to go see his stone at the cemetary. He and my other grandparents are buried at the same one, and I'd go see my Brandybuck grandparents' graves, and before Morfar's headstone was there, I'd go see Mormor's, but once his stone was put in, I just couldn't face it. I knew when I did I would completely break down, and being me I just couldn't do that. I finally went last year, though, figuring I had to do it eventually (this was getting a bit silly, 15 years later). And I did break down, but I figured that would be it. Once I saw it, I would be fine.
I went there a few weeks ago, though - it's such a nice, peaceful place to walk, and it was a gorgeous day - and I broke down again. (Dumb me, this time I didn't have kleenex.) I just sat there wishing so desperately that he would talk to me, that he would impart some bit of wisdom to me. So I sat there, by his stone, trying to think of what he would tell me. First of all, he would think it was about time I moved on to medical records. But then, as I sat there longer, I thought he would want me to think. He would want me to really truly use the brain GOD gave me. Of course, I had no idea what that meant, or how I could use it, but he would want me to keep thinking until I thought of it. So I sat there, thinking and thinking, wishing I was one of those people who believed that the dead could guide us. And then I started thinking, okay, I don't believe in the Chinese ancestor thing, but the Bible does say that we're surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, those who have gone before. Who's to say that they can't help us along in some inexplicable way? There are many things about Heaven and the afterlife that we don't know and don't understand, who's to say that's not how things are?
And so I sat there some more, thinking. I didn't want to leave until I had some sort of breakthrough. How can I possibly use my brain so as to not disappoint my grandpa? How can I possibly use it when I have no one to share my thoughts with because no one understands me? I'm so alone in this world without having my Morfar here. I'm so hopelessly alone. I want to not disappoint him. Perhaps using my brain would make him feel not so far away, make me feel not so alone. What on earth could I do?
I sat there until I got it. I can write. Write, Melilot. Write something. It doesn't matter what. Morfar would just want you to use your brain in some way. And seeing as you're not in school, that's the one way to do it. Write.