My grandfather passed away on Valentine’s Day.
I am still numb, and the funeral is on Saturday.
Gramps was my last living grandparent, and he was a WWII veteran. His greatest accomplishment in his life was serving in the war.
He even earned a Purple Heart.
He was 97.
His health was really good, almost perfect, for many years. But a few years back, he took a fall and that changed everything. He steadily deteriorated. About a week ago, we were told to see him because he wasn’t going to be with us much longer. He hadn’t been eating and was being fed intravenously. It was time.
Hubby and I went to see him the day before he passed, but due to a miscommunication, and quite possibly my stupidity, we didn’t end up in the right place. Apparently, my dad was there at the same time. He said we went to the wrong place. I’m not sure how, but the fact remains: I didn’t get to see him before he died.
I will carry that with me forever.
So, I will write Gramps a note. And hope that wherever he is, he will see it and understand.
Dear Gramps,
I miss you. It’s funny, because I haven’t seen you for a long time, but I do. I miss you going out to eat with us when we have birthday parties and you ordering a hamburger, no matter where we went (even Mexican). I miss your slightly mismatched clothes due to being colorblind. I miss your hugs. I miss hearing about the war. I miss hearing about your life. But most of all, I miss your solid presence, something I counted on for almost 35 years.
I miss those perfect days visiting you and Grandma on Rose Street. In the summertime, playing out in the field across from your house. Getting ice cream at the corner. Sunday dinners. Birthday parties and more-paper gifts. Hearing your stories, so many stories, about your life. Stories about the war and what you experienced.
I miss seeing you at your house. I always wanted to get back home, get back to my life, but now I realize I was wrong. Horrendously, horrifically wrong. You were just lonely, needing company, and I am so sorry for all the times I could have stayed longer and didn’t. I am glad of the times I did, though. Remember when you wanted us to watch a war movie? I was so tired that day, but it would make you happy, so we watched it. Remember the documentary the ex and I made for you? How I touched your medals with reverence and awe? I’d never seen them before, you know. And the things you experienced….I am SO PROUD of you, Gramps. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this. But I am. You fought in a WAR. You risked your life for this country. You were drafted and married Grandma and then you were gone. She wrote you ten- page letters (you see where my wordiness comes from). And you fought and you survived. I can’t imagine doing what you did. But I can imagine you doing it, because that’s kind of man you are. I am honored to be your granddaughter, honored to be a part of this family, this legacy.
I wish you would have lived forever. Grandpas aren’t supposed to die, you know. But I promise you, I will never forget you or the things you told me, or your service to the country. I will never forget any of it.
You wanna know something? I’m going to write a novel inspired by you and Grandma. It’s going to be fantasy, with Irish goddesses and Gods and a war of some sort. I have a file on my computer filled with notes as I type this. Before I die, I want to write this. I want to honor you just as you’ve honored us.
I had a dream last night that you were still alive, but were dying. You were walking around, alive, just as I remember you. Did you come visit me in my dream? We didn’t talk, but you were so there, so real, I could almost believe it was true.
I miss you. I hope that wherever you are, you’re not in any pain, and you are happy. You deserve that. I hope you found Grandma and you two are sitting there on a cloud watching us. I hope we don’t embarrass ourselves too much.
This is not goodbye, Gramps. This is a see-you-later, because someday I’ll see you again. I’ll be able to hug you again. And this time, I’ll stay. As long as it takes. And then you won’t be so lonely anymore.
I love you.
Godspeed,
Erin