i strive to keep this as anonymous as possible, even though from time to time i'll post a link up for my facebook friends.
you and i know each other on a strange level. my deepest of everything, yet we could pass each other in the streets without a thought. i like it that way.
no pictures of myself or my family, was my plan upon starting this. i need to break that right now.
my gramps passed away April 29th, a little bit past midnight, with my aunt and i holding his hand and petting his beautiful white hair.
for being 92, he had really thick hair. i got that from him. i hope i get that beautiful silver everyone on that side seems to have after 50.
he looked frail. he looked like he was dying. he looked like he was ready to see his wife and parents and siblings and family and friends on that other side we struggle to know about.
he was a teacher and would definitely point out my lack of capitalization and run on sentences. im really terrible at punctuation. sorry, grandpa.
he saw terrible things in WW2. he barely made it out alive. it didn't crush his spirit, he just never talked about it, and he didn't need to. they played taps at the funeral.
the man never complained. ever. he took life in stride.
everyone loved him.
when word got around the town he and my grandma lived in, the abundance of cakes and cookies and casseroles and cards were just a little, tangible testament to that. small town sweet gestures.
my grandma was his world, and the dynamic they shared is something i take into my own relationship. they were each others sweeties.
i know in my heart as my grandma was dying she tried to hold on for him. she took weeks after her stroke of slowly fading away. we kept her comfortable, but she was adamant that we would not try to prolong her life in any way. DNR. they had it all planned out for us. thank you.
watching him watch her go was one of the most heartbreaking experiences in my life.
he would forget that she was gone, and ask when she was coming back, and we'd need to relive that all over again. see his face.
they are together again, and that makes this slightly more comforting.
he passed away a little over 4 hrs after my dad and i got off the plane and rushed to his side. he held on for us.
the man had a way with a garden- greenest thumb ever. his backyard was always pruned and lush. he had a cherry tree when they lived out west that i loved to gobble away on until i was stained red, my stomach aching.
my aunt explained it perfectly- "he was a man stacked with integrity".
he was.
im going to miss his voice. he had a very unique one.
occasionally he'd ask, "how old am i??" and when told he was 92 he'd respond "oh...that's old enough"
it was old enough.
i'll miss you.
i love you.
