This past week my Grandpa passed away.
It was abrupt and shocking just like that sentence sounds. In any other case, I would say that the massive heart attack was a blessing. Eighty-eight good years spent in health -- still vital and possessing strength and independence. Ending quickly and without suffering. This is what everyone wants.
But he was my Grandpa and I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I assumed I had more time. More time to spend with him, to hear his stories and watch hockey with him. More time to see him delight in my children. More time.
I was wrong. There was no more time.
And so I grieve for my Grandpa. A loving, solid, generous man. A man who would do anything for his family, would give anything. I wish I had more time with him. The things I want to say thunder in my heart and it seems impossible that I can't ever say them to him.
And I wonder why I didn't when I had the time.
I trust that somehow he now knows and sees and understands in fullness. I trust that we will be reunited one day.
Until then, Grandpa.
3 comments:
{{{hugs}}}
I know what you mean - you just want one more (or a few more) chances to be with him, and say again how much you love him, and what he's meant to you. And you can never really say it as well as you want to, and then suddenly, you can't.
My dad is 87, and he's been in robust good health. Until recently. Not that he's knocking on death's door, but it's more apparent than it has been, that he won't be with us forever. And I just know that when he goes, it will be an utter earthquake in my life. He has been the one earthly constant in my life.
But then, he's the first male in his family to see his 70th birthday, much less his 80th, in a few generations (his two brothers were 47 and 58 when they died; of five siblings, Dad is the oldest, and the last one standing). So, I've been preparing myself to say goodbye for almost 20 years. God's mercy, I guess. . .
I'm very sorry for your loss, Flutter.
Aw, I'm sorry to hear that. I have fond memories of, when I was a kid, watching baseball games with my own Grandpa. If we lived further north, perhaps it would have been hockey instead.
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