I still can't believe it.
I feel qualified now to say that I have watched someone die of a broken heart. If you remember it was our sweet grandma who passed away less than 3 weeks ago. I still have flowers from the funeral scattered in vases around the house. I believe the saddest moment of my life was watching him break down at Grandma's funeral, and then taking the bus back to the nursing home instead of going on with us to the cemetery. And 22 lonely days later, he decided to join her. Bless them both for the reunion they are enjoying right now.
Immediately after meeting Grandpa, I knew I had not only a new loving grandpa in my life, but also a friend. I loved it when we would tease each other. He always had that special knack of making me feel an important part of the conversation.
He worked really hard his whole life. I remember all the countless stories he would tell about growing up in the rural part of the state, going to medical school, missions, raising his children, serving in the church. He knew so much about everything, and still continued to be interested in learning more.
Our last visit was a week ago today. We laughed, 'A' sang Rudolph, and we said some teary goodbyes (although he assured us he would live another 10 years). I had such a heavy heart leaving him that night in the nursing home.
And so, here I sit. Typing on the computer that was once his. Sitting in my project room that was once his office. Earlier today, I could almost see him puttering around the yard like he used to do, planning on what plant or flower he wanted where. Since we now attend grandpa & grandma's old ward, a lady introduced herself to me and then told me how highly she thought of grandpa. The word she used a couple times was classy. Couldn't have come up with a more perfect word.
Grandpa, how grateful your own suffering has come to a quick end. Yet still, you will be greatly missed.