I was asked to speak at my grandpa’s funeral tomorrow.  When I was ten, I spoke at my mom’s funeral and apparently it was a very emotional experience.  I don’t remember speaking, but I’ve been told that I did a wonderful job.  This was given me as the reason my family wanted me to speak tomorrow, but I’m having a hard time coming up with something to say.  You would think that having an extra fourteen years with someone would make it a little easier to find something to say, but you’d be wrong.

Tom already misses him.  He was upset when I told him that Opa went to live in heaven and that someday we’ll see him again, but not for a long time.  Through his tears he managed to squeak out, “Tommy wants Opa,” and all I could say was, “So does Mommy, honey.”  It just doesn’t seem right.

Grandpa was one of those guys that everyone liked.  He was easy to talk to, had a great sense of humor, loved his family.  I miss him so much.  The visitation is tonight; I don’t know how I’m going to be able to go through with it.  I’m tense just sitting here thinking about it and tomorrow will only be worse.

I keep thinking back to my mom.  She passed away September 28, 1994.  Grandpa passed away September 27, 2008.  Mommy’s funeral was September 30, 1994.  Grandpa’s will be October 1, 2008.  The closeness in their dates of death fascinates me for some weird and unexplainable reason.  And yes, I mean the month and day, not the year.  It seems like this is all I can think of lately.  I mean, thinking about Grandpa a lot is reasonable, I’m sure, but my mom?  Drawing comparisons between their deaths is taking things a little far, I think.  And I can’t seem to stop.

I can’t wait to go home tonight and curl up on the couch with the hunnybunny.  I’m gonna need a big hug after tonight.  Hugs rock.

(c) 2008.  All rights reserved.

Recap: My grandpa suffered a massive stroke Wednesday morning.  He was taken to two hospitals before losing consciousness and being sent to a third.  He never woke up.  Now he never will.  My grandpa passed away this morning; he was 73.

I’m having a hard time with this.  I just saw him last week and he was fine.  He was in good overall health; he still worked, driving a semi for a farming operation near Parkersburg, I believe.  He and his wife enjoyed travelling; they went south for the winter and attended bluegrass festivals in the summer.  Last year (or whichever year it was that we had so much flooding and no, it wasn’t this year) they went out to the East Coast and had a grand time.  He enjoyed woodworking and had taken up whittling; last year for Christmas presents he made bowls for my aunt and my sister and a recipe box for me.  He hadn’t done any woodworking in a long time and he had only recently taken it up again; he used to love it and I was glad to see him doing something he enjoyed again.

I know he’s in a better place now and that he passed peacefully, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me.  He didn’t suffer the way that my mom and my grandma did; his was a relatively short and painless death compared to theirs.  But that doesn’t ease my pain.  I know this isn’t all about me, but I miss him.  I wish he was still here.  To think he’ll never tease me again or joke around with me; he won’t get to see Tom grow up and become a man; he won’t get to see me…I was thinking about it this morning after I got the call and tomorrow is the 14th anniversary of the day my mom died.  When her grandma died, I was only a little younger than Tom is now and my mom was only a little older than I am now.  Weird.

For everyone who kept us in your thoughts and prayers, thank you.

(c) 2008.  All rights reserved.

Today, as we all know, is Hump Day, the middle of the week.  From here on in, it’s a beautiful downhill ride to the weekend.  Today has definitely been characterized by humps for me.

This morning was going along pretty well until right around 11:00 a.m. or so, when I got a phone call from my aunt.  My aunt never calls me during business hours because we are both at work, and she never calls me at work.  That right there told me something was fishy in Herringtown.  She was on her way to Iowa City and was calling to tell me that my grandpa had a stroke this morning.  His wife took him to the local hospital, which moved him to one about half an hour away.  That was when he started worsening.  Then they sent him to Iowa City.  He has massive bleeding on the brain and hasn’t been conscious since leaving Waterloo this morning for Iowa City.  The chances that he will make it are very slim.

Today has not been a red-letter day.

Excuse me, but I’m going to go cry some more now.  Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.  Thanks.

(c) 2008.  All rights reserved.