My grandfather passed away today. I got the call at 11:40 am.
It strikes me at an especially sensitive area because I realize now, after his passing, that I had countless opportunities to connect with him that I passed up, thinking that there would always be another chance. Just yesterday he was put onto morphine in the nursing home where he’s been for some months now. My family all visited him, but I chose not to come home from my activities, saying I would visit him the next day. He died before I could visit today.
I can’t express how much I want one last conversation with him. One last hug and one last time to tell him how much he mattered to me, and how much I loved him. Never did I expect that our last meeting would be the last time I would ever be able to speak to him. The first stage of grief is denial, and I suppose some part of me still hasn’t accepted the fact that he’s gone.
I write this post with the intention of reminding myself and others that people won’t be with us forever and often it takes losing someone to remind us of this. Death is just another part of life, but it seems like it will never happen to anyone we know.
I love you grandpa, and I always will, no matter what.