Yesterday I lost someone very special to me: my grandpa.
My family has known for awhile that his health was declining, but death is never easy, even when it's expected.
Actually, it came as somewhat of a shock to me on a day that was otherwise typical and ordinary. I got a call from my mom at the end of the work day He was admitted to the hospital due to poor health and the doctors thought that it was probably time for the family to gather to say goodbye. A couple short hours later, he had passed.
We called him "Pappy," and he has always been a fun-loving kind of guy, even mischievous at times. He was always making jokes and, even though he had diabetes, I would always catch him sneaking ice cream when my grandma wasn't watching. Maybe that's where I inherited my sweet tooth.
One of the things I was worried about over the past year as his health continued to decline even more was that he might never meet my son. He lived in Ohio, so I saw him only on the holidays when the whole family would get together. He met my daughter on her first Thanksgiving, but since our move to Tennessee, my son had been born and he hadn't had the chance to meet him yet.
This past July, we made a stop in Ohio on the way to visit my husband's family and Pappy got to meet my son for the first time.
While both of my children are still too young to remember, I'm so glad that we made that trip so Pappy could hold both of his great grandchildren.
Even though I know you're in a better place, I'll miss you, Pappy.