I've known this date was coming for a few weeks now. Yet, somehow I forgot all about it.
My older sister (actually, cousin) posted as her status the title of a Carrie Underwood song called "Temporary Home." It made her miss our grandfather. And it put it back into perspective for me that it's coming up.
April 28th.
A song I just heard brought me back to that time, those final days. I've actually forgotten what the song was called. I feel guilty for even forgetting, because I found that song right around when he passed away. But I had to find the song, and I even knew who sang it. So I finally found it, and I just started crying.
When he went into the hospital for the last time, I never expected him to not come back out. I never saw it coming. I was in denial up until that last day that I was with him. He went in on the day my friend had her bridal shower, with another bout of pneumonia. By that Tuesday, he was ready to go. We called a Priest, and my sister and I were in the room with my Grandma and another lady who knew my Grandpa, as they administered his last rights. I was too numb at that point, just praying that none of us were right about it. I spent as much time as I could there during that week. Even though my finals were coming up and graduation was literally a week away. I had a dinner for all the Seniors that Friday night, and then that Saturday, I went shopping with a couple of friends. When I got back to the hospital that night, he had said he was ready to go.
So everyone was expecting it. He wasn't doing good, and he was calling out, begging for help.
That Sunday morning, I went to church and just knew. Knew that it would be it. So we went to visit him at the hospital. Everyone else was downstairs, and I went to visit him. I will never forget this next part. I was talking to him, even though he might not have heard me. I don't remember all that I said, but this part was important to me. I was holding his hand, and telling him-as I was cryng- that I loved him. He mumbled something inaudible. A little bit later, I said it again, "I love you, Poppy." And he said the words, clear as day, squeezing my hand in the process. So he did hear me. It made me even more sad. The others came in the room, and I eventually left, crying.
We stayed all day, taking turns being in his room. When we left for the night, we left with heavy hearts. At 2:50 in the morning, we got the call that he was going quickly. I remember waking up after hearing the phone ring and running down the hall. My mom said he was going, so I hurried up, put some clothes on and called my sister. When she answered, I said, "Go to the hospital now!" She understood and we did 70 going the short trip to the hospital. When we got there, my Grandma was crying in the chair next to him, holding his hand. She said he had just passed away a little before. I remember kissing him goodbye, and then driving my Grandma back to her house. Plans started to be made early that morning, family was called.
I was supposed to have a final that morning. I walked in and explained to my professors what was going on, and they understood. I ended up taking an incomplete in a class until I could finish my project a month later. Then, I went back to my Grandma's, and just kind of zoned in and out. We began digging out pictures and sharing memories. That brings a smile to my face, because it would be one of the last times we would come together as a family.
They began talking about who would give the eulogies and I said that I wanted to give one. At first, I was met with resistance. They doubted that I could do it, but I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted to do it for myself, as a final gift to my Grandpa. So I did. I wish I had prepared more for it, but I didn't.
The viewing came and went. There were so many people that came to pay their respect for him. We knew that we'd be meeting up at my Grandma's early the next morning, for the funeral. Anyone coming to the funeral mass was meeting at the funeral home first, and then walking to the church from there. They got to say goodbye one last time. And so did we. It was so hard. None of us wanted that coffin lid to close. I begged him when I said goodbye to just squeeze my hand one last time. But he couldn't. My cousins, brother, and brother-in-law were Pallbearers. It is such an honor to do that, yet heartbreaking for them at the same time. We walked to the church, and everyone was waiting for us and for Grandpa to come in. It was a beautiful service. The Priest was amazing, the songs were peaceful. I gave my eulogy- the last one. At the end of it, I said, "It's not goodbye, it's see you later."
Even though it's been 2 years, it still hurts. I still miss him, I still think about him. One of the most important men in my life and he is no longer physically here. I talk to him every so often. I used to smell cigar smoke in random places, but I haven't smelled it in a long time. I hate that I can't smell it anymore. I hate that I don't see him in my dreams anymore. I don't want him to think I have forgotten him, because I haven't. I know that I will see him again in Heaven. And I know that he is checking up on us every so often.
I will remember you, always. I will tell my children about you, I will share your stories with them. You live on through me.
I love you always, Poppy.
