This is a startling time of life- where you begin to understand that the people you love most are mortal. I will miss my grandpa's face, and holding his hand. He always used to say to me, his voice a little scrappy, "Oh, Sure do love you." I know everyone believes their grandfather to be extraordinary. My grandpa was a man I measured all others against. He was kind and comforting, spiritual; he was mischeveous, handsome. He was magic.
Last night he came to me in a dream. I had been lamenting one last strong hug. He encircled me and gave me a palpable sqeeze. I really could feel him. I could feel his whiskers. I felt very safe and loved. And happy. I felt very happy.
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I have been longing for one last kisss on the cheek from Grandpa. His kisses always tickled a little bit and were always just a bit wet. I will miss him grabbing you and pulling you down to his level in his chair and him planting a goodbye kiss on you.
Love you, Heid.
I lost my grandmother on April 23rd. We were not close, but I had to be very involved in the planning and follow through. I spent 3 days going through boxes of 4 generations worth of letters and photographs, staring at the faces dead relatives I’ve never known trying to figure out who they are and how we’re related. My personal reality check was when I realized all that was left after 89 years, five kids and several grandkids, was 3 boxes of hand-me-down history, most of it not pertaining directly to her, that she was the last surviving caretaker of her generation, a link in a five generational chain. I may never lay hands on these artifacts again, but I know I’m just another link, and someday somebody’s grandkid is going to be looking at my picture wondering who the hell I was and what I did with my life when all that’s left are a few boxes of letters and photographs.
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