Death is an interesting thing. Sometimes it hits right away, sometimes later on. Other times the wave is just a small ripple. My grandfather past away a few years back. It never really hit me. I mean i love him dearly and i have fond memories of him, but as a teenager it just never hit like that tsunami. Not until recently, and in a much different way, when my parents moved into his old neighborhood. All the houses look the same on the inside, there's no differences: the same rooms, the same kitchen, the same color, and even same length of the driveway even. But i don't see my new home, i barely notice anything real in there, all i see is his house. My grandfather's house. I can't say why, i never thought about him much after he passed, but as i walk through the front door the waves hit; I find myself trapped in the past, replaying old memories, sometimes i just see the old layout. I don't feel home, not even like a visiter, instead I feel like a stranger taking something that isn't mine by calling it home or just living there. I don't really know how to describe the feeling either, not sad, not anger, maybe claustrophobic? A little tight feeling in the chest where you'd rather go anywhere else but you can't. But I take comfort that I'm college student away from home more often then not. With a summer internship around the corner who knows when I'll be there next. Or if it'll still feel that way when I return.
