Last Friday at exactly 1:22 am my grandfather passed away. He left this life, this "valley of sorrow"... he left me. I still can't believe it, not even after the weekend I've had.

Not even a year ago, my Papito Carlos left too: in less than a year I lost them both.

Life and death... the unavoidable truth everyone knows and most people are never capable of understanding, including myself.

A week ago he was still here, and today, I feel his absence so strong it makes me feel like he's been gone for a lot longer.

I know he was ready. He struggled SO hard to stay with us, he went through surgery, radiotherapy and other kind of treatments...it all meant a lot of pain, and even more to a person who always resisted medicine and doctors. He did it, for us, his family, because we asked him to. I'm sure he would've preferred to live the rest of his days not thinking about this disease: no medicines, no drugs, no doctors, no treatments...just appreciation, reflection and spending time with all the people he loved. That would've been his choice, I'm sure.

Even now that he's gone, he still has a huge impact on my life. He was such a compassionate, loving, giving, amazingly kind man, that not even death could take him away. So when I say "he's gone" I mean I can't hug him or touch him, but I can definitely feel him. I feel him everywhere, it's beautiful. Painful, but great. I know one day it won't be painful anymore, and then, it'll be nothing but BEAUTIFUL, like him.