I missed it. I arrived 13 1/2 hours late. My Grandpa passed away at 1:30am on 11/1/2011. I packed my 3 month old up, decided to forgo my 1st week back to work and on a whim booked a flight Sunday night for Tuesday. He would for sure make it until I go there. The travel went off with out a hitch. Ashley was fantastic. Once I arrived home, I got the news. I had missed him. I couldn't believe it. How could he do this to me! How could he leave me! I think the truth is he knew I, along with my cousins, were coming and he did not want us to see him in the condition he was in.
As I sit here and type this I am wearing his Marine's sweatshirt. It still smells like him. Tears stream down my face because I know in a short time that smell will no longer linger. I think I am still in shock. I keep expecting him to call or walk in the door. We are all busy with funeral arrangements, answering the phone, and making final plans. That certainly helps but soon enough we will all be home and the reality will set in.
I know God does not barter with us. I know he does not trade one life for another. But at this moment as I look back I feel blessed. With Grandpa being sick I was not able to talk to him as often as I would normally. In the last three months I have been so busy as a new mom I have just been able to keep up with the basic updates. I am been so wound up about day care and going back to work that I put Grandpa being sick on the back burner. Surly he would pull through, he always did. I feel like God was trying to tell me, "you know I'm going to take Grandpa, but in return I will heal your heart with a new life". Don't get me wrong, my heart is BROKEN, but when I look at my daughter, I smile and think how much Grandpa would have loved to hold her, how much he already loved her. She will never know him as I did. I realize that was never possible. Now I know he is watching over her and continuing to watch over me.
I find myself thinking of things I need to tell him; try and imagine what he would say. I think of how life just goes on. As I picked this sweatshirt out of his closet I almost didn't want to move it. He was the last one to touch it, fold it and put it on the shelf. I wanted to stare long enough and pray I never forgot what his closet looked like or what the notes in his calendar looked like. It's like time is frozen in that room.
As I sit here, I still cannot believe he will not be at the other end of the telephone line. He will not be there to greet me when I go home. He will not be there to physically see the rest of my life or watch my daughter grow. But I am forever grateful he did see as much as he did. I am so blessed to have had him in my life. So long for now GP, so long.
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