Two years ago, a wonderful man left this earth to join the love of his life in heaven. Two years ago, my family lost the patriarch of our family, my Grandpa George. I cannot believe it has been two years. It hardly seems possible. It seems just yesterday he was still here. Hell, sometimes I find myself wanting to say "oh, what should we get Grandpa for Christmas? or something along those lines.) Is he really gone?
The other day, T and I were talking about his grandparents, three of them still on this earth, and he does not get to see them too often as they live in Massachusetts. And none of them are in great health. T has been my support through watching my Grandpa deteriorate and pass away, and it makes my heart immensely sad that I know T will someday have to go through that, too. His Nana visited us last June, and she just went home after meeting her 2nd great-grandchild up in Michigan. That could have been the last time she would see her since she will no longer be able to fly out, it's just too hard on her physically and mentally. We want to go out to Boston next summer because I feel very strongly that his other set of grandparents should meet their great-grandchild at least once. But something else came to my mind. T's going to have to go through that feeling. That feeling of this is it - this is the last hug, this is the last time I'll see them. We don't have the money to go out there more than that, and they are not in good health. And it brought me back to that day on July 30th at my family's reunion where I hugged my Grandpa one last time. And I knew it would be the last time because of his health. I knew that was the last time I would say I love you to him, the last time he would hug me back, the last time. All of those feelings just washed back.
It is supposed to get easier, I thought, but I'm learning it doesn't. I still tear up thinking about my aunt we lost 20 years ago. It never gets easier. I miss him terribly. I wish I could go back to that day and could hug him just a little longer. I wish he could have met my daughter.
We have a picture of my Grandpa up in our den, and sometimes Aubrey escapes us and runs into there, and whenever she sees that picture she points and says "Bye-bye!" Every. time. Forever. I don't understand it. Did she meet him in heaven? Does she know him somehow? Maybe it's just some kind of coincidence? It all seems impossible, but maybe I need to tell myself this to believe it.
We went to church the other day where there was a 50th wedding anniversary blessing. Father said to the couple that when they were engaged, that was the happiest day of their lives. When they were married, that was the happiest they would ever be. When they welcomed children into the world, they only became happier. He said on that night, as he blessed their marriage, that would be the happiest day of their lives. And when they join each other in heaven, that would be the happiest moment of their lives. He said 50 years? That's nothing. You have eternity in paradise to be together. This tears me up. I know without a shadow of a doubt that when my Grandpa passed away, at that moment, as my uncle said he took his last breath and turned his head, looking directly in the corner of the room, that my Grandma was there saying "Welcome home, George" welcoming him back with so much happiness. They are together again, and that was the happiest moment of his life. He was reunited with his Peggy.
I'm tearing up writing this so I'll end. I think it goes without saying but today I am thankful for my Grandpa. Yes, I can't bring myself to come to his grave site to visit him, but I know he knows I think of him often and love him more than he'll know. I miss him every day. God bless you, Grandpa.