Going, Going, Gone
No, I'm not talking about a sale. Knowing me, who can blame you for thinking that. Sadly, I lost my granddaddy yesterday. He was fighting cancer for three years hence, the going, going part.
My GD was always such a manly man. To me, he was the kind of man that scoops you up, holds you close and makes you feel like a great big dainty ball of femininity -- like there is no one else in the room and you are the only girl in the world. All these feelings in a room full of people. I don't want to sugarcoat it . . . there are many times he abused this devilish charm on my grandmother. That's between them.
But like all manly men, he was a fighter. He fought and fought to be here and be with all of us - his wife, his five children and their spouses, his 22 grandchildren and his 28 great grandchildren. I was so fortunate to be with him on one of his last days. Now a frail, small man with the same huge presence, I didn't leave his side or let go of his hand except to get the lotion that I massaged into his still big hands. And when he needed to be adjusted on his bed, he argued with his wife because he wanted me to do it -- and in my twisted state of mind, he was still making me feel like the only girl for him. In leaving, we said our usual goodbye: Me, "I love you Granddaddy." Him, "I love you too baby." Me, "I know you do." That is one thing I know without a shadow of a doubt - he loved me immensely and that went both ways.
In the last year of his struggle, he knew what was waiting for him. He told me of the calming bright light he felt during his last surgery. And just weeks ago, he talked of God speaking to him and reassuring him. And as I drove to Target yesterday, there was a fleeting moment where I felt . . . something -- something hard to describe. I can't quite put my finger on it. Suddenly, my mind stopped racing from the list of things I had to do before the last day of school this Friday and I was at peace. My mind was clear and all I noticed was the vast blue sky with the white fluffy clouds and the sunshine warming my face. The closest thing I can compare it to would be feeling like a bird flying through the air on a beautiful day. No matter, it was a moment I tried to grasp onto like waking from a good dream but keeping your eyes closed in hopes that the images won't disappear. But it did and next thing I knew, I was grumbling at the Target people because the Photo Lab wasn't open.
I'd like to think that moment was the minute that my granddaddy's soul ascended into heaven. I loved him and will miss him terribly. And like I told him, we'll be there with him before he knows it.
My GD was always such a manly man. To me, he was the kind of man that scoops you up, holds you close and makes you feel like a great big dainty ball of femininity -- like there is no one else in the room and you are the only girl in the world. All these feelings in a room full of people. I don't want to sugarcoat it . . . there are many times he abused this devilish charm on my grandmother. That's between them.
But like all manly men, he was a fighter. He fought and fought to be here and be with all of us - his wife, his five children and their spouses, his 22 grandchildren and his 28 great grandchildren. I was so fortunate to be with him on one of his last days. Now a frail, small man with the same huge presence, I didn't leave his side or let go of his hand except to get the lotion that I massaged into his still big hands. And when he needed to be adjusted on his bed, he argued with his wife because he wanted me to do it -- and in my twisted state of mind, he was still making me feel like the only girl for him. In leaving, we said our usual goodbye: Me, "I love you Granddaddy." Him, "I love you too baby." Me, "I know you do." That is one thing I know without a shadow of a doubt - he loved me immensely and that went both ways.
In the last year of his struggle, he knew what was waiting for him. He told me of the calming bright light he felt during his last surgery. And just weeks ago, he talked of God speaking to him and reassuring him. And as I drove to Target yesterday, there was a fleeting moment where I felt . . . something -- something hard to describe. I can't quite put my finger on it. Suddenly, my mind stopped racing from the list of things I had to do before the last day of school this Friday and I was at peace. My mind was clear and all I noticed was the vast blue sky with the white fluffy clouds and the sunshine warming my face. The closest thing I can compare it to would be feeling like a bird flying through the air on a beautiful day. No matter, it was a moment I tried to grasp onto like waking from a good dream but keeping your eyes closed in hopes that the images won't disappear. But it did and next thing I knew, I was grumbling at the Target people because the Photo Lab wasn't open.
I'd like to think that moment was the minute that my granddaddy's soul ascended into heaven. I loved him and will miss him terribly. And like I told him, we'll be there with him before he knows it.
Amazing story and tribute to your Granddaddy! I'm sure it was him smiling down on you from heaven letting you know he was alright, he's proud of the legacy he's leaving here on earth and he will see you when you get there. Linda ~ @goqivana
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