Last year on December 13th we said good bye to Grampa. The ride from Nana's house to the hospital seemed to go by quicker although we didn't want it to.
We arrived at the hospital and made our way to Grampa's room. Jo was very reluctant to go near him. He didn't look the same, his voice was all but a whisper and she was afraid of his catheter. She asked us dozens of times on the drive home where it came from and what it was. We stayed about half an hour trying to prolong the inevitable. Saying Goodbye. Jo played around writing on the white board and we tried to get her to climb up and cuddle with Grampa, but she would have nothing to do with it. All I wanted to do was crawl up and cuddle with him. I think we said goodbye a few times and finally I knew I had to go. Jo and I both kissed him goodbye and I told him that I loved him and then left the room to give my mom some time alone with her dad. I was in tears before we left the room. Jo had such a hard time wondering why I was crying and I tried to explain to her that Grampa would soon be going to heaven and I was sad. How do you explain it to a 6 year old? We waited for Mom and I had to fight the urge to go back in. We went downstairs and I thought I was OK. I had to use the bathroom before we started our journey back and through the door I could her a gentleman talking to Jo asking her how old she was and what she wanted for Christmas. He then told her that he had a granddaughter just about her age and how he was looking forward to spending Christmas with her. I lost it. The tears were flowing and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Mom and I finally pulled ourselves together and started the journey home. I am thankful that Mom was with me to keep me occupied in conversation and to know that I wasn't alone in my grief that day.
There are moments in time that will never be forgotten and this is one of them. I miss him....
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