When the Bastions Fall
Last week, my grandfather passed away at the age of 85. His death affected me deeply because he was very close to me, but the funeral was even harder because, although I was suffering inside, I couldn't show it for a moment. For a year and a half now, I've been playing the role of someone who helps others, from whom anyone can draw strength, who is a stable and strong leader of a community brought together by the blog, my person, diets, shared workouts, and a healthy lifestyle. The day before the funeral, I met Kristóf, and I wasn't in a good state. Kristóf told me then that I simply couldn't fall apart because pillars must never collapse, a leader cannot be seen as vulnerable because it shakes the community's faith, and if there's no one they can listen to, no one to radiate strength, define the path, and unite them, then the slow erosion of the community will begin.
I didn't want to accept this because we are human. With emotions, tragedies, a series of blows from life, and sometimes, a person just hits the ground, asks for a timeout, sits down, and says, "everyone can go to hell now." Life has tested me many times in the 19 months of writing this blog. More than once, I wanted to quit everything, but I never really meant it. Over the years, I've noticed how I've become stronger in ways I never imagined, but I think I'll need this strength because the attacks against me, as Tilt develops and becomes more well-known, will only intensify, and many will want to see my downfall. So I had to decide if I was ready for the challenges of the future, and if my answer was yes, then I simply had to move forward, caring about nothing else but my dreams, my plans, where there are no obstacles and no headwind strong enough to make me stop. If I believe that what I'm doing is great, and I do believe that the LifeTilt system is a fantastic thing, then no one can stand in my way, and believe me, in this case, it's better to be rowing in the same boat with me than against me. Time will, of course, decide whether there's a demand for what I do or not. If there is, then no one can stop Tilt, but if there isn't, then LifeTilt will be nothing more than a fleeting memory in the minds of a few people.
LifeTilt taught me to stay strong, and my grandfather's funeral made me realize the strength I truly possess. I was afraid of the funeral, not just because we were burying a beloved and defining member of the family, but because I never wanted to see my dad cry. Whatever happened to us, Dad always held himself together, even when a few tears wouldn't have been shameful to wipe away. My father is my rock, my role model, who behaved like a man his whole life and exemplary kept the family together. The day before the funeral, Dad came up to me and started telling me a story about his last meeting with my grandfather in the hospital, when he was holding his father's hand, who was no longer conscious, and Dad asked my grandfather to squeeze his hand if he could hear him. My grandfather squeezed his hand, smiled, opened his eyes, and looked at my dad…
At this point, Dad's voice broke, and he couldn't speak anymore. That's how they said goodbye, and Dad simply couldn't finish the story. I sat on the bed, staring ahead, he left the room, and that was the point I never wanted to see. A tear is nothing, and it's perfectly understandable when a person loses their father, but then and there I understood what it means when the pillars collapse. I don't know who has been to a funeral and who has lost a close relative, but as always, in such times, there needs to be someone who remains stable and holds the family together. My father carried this responsibility, but at the funeral, he couldn't bear the weight that fell on him, and I had to step in and show strength. On the day of the funeral, I realized that I can no longer fall apart at home if there's a problem, but I can never show weakness here either, because what my father was to me, I am to hundreds of people. When I said goodbye to my grandfather for the last time, I consciously looked him in the eye and said, "see you later." And so it will be, I just have a little more to do here on Earth.
Rest in peace, Grandpa, I loved you very much…
