(no subject)
Grampa isn't going to get better... He doesn't even want to try anymore.
I don't want to accept it, but I have no choice. He probably only has a few weeks left, if even.
I haven't been going down and visiting him as much as I should... I hate seeing him like this. I mean, all my life he's been this big strong Grampa, quick of wit and an always dirty sense of humor. And now? Now he doesn't even have the energy to get out of bed in the morning. The wit is still there, and his mind is still sharp, but he's trapped in a body that's broken and weak... And I hate to see him like that.
Grampa has always been a huge part of my life. Always after school when me and my brothers were in grade school, the bus would take us down to Gramma and Grampa's house because my parents had to work. Gramma would always have a great afternoon snack layed out for us, and once a week or so, Grampa would get out his fancy popcorn maker and make us kids the perfect popcorn. If you asked us then, we would have all sworn that he could have won an award if he ever participated in a cooking contest. He and Gramma took care of us until our parents could come home to pick us up and take us home, and we usually saw them more then we saw our own parents during the week day.
When I was younger still, not even in kindergarten yet, I remember sitting on his lap in his big chair and watching the Price is Right with him every day. Those memories will always hold a special place for me in my heart... I only hope they don't fade away after time.
I always had this sort of dream, this wish, that Grampa would be there when I got married... That he would get a chance to meet my children some day, his first great grandchildren. But now it looks as if once again, those dreams were in vain.
I've never had a major death in my family... I grew up with two sets of grandparents, tons of aunts and uncles, and parents who love and care about each other even after almost 30 years. My great aunt, Grampa's sister, died in March from cancer, and though I cared about her, we were never all that close. Spent holidays together, yeah, and maybe stopped over at their house a few times, but she was never a big part of my life. And when she finely did pass on, I was just happy she wasn't suffering anymore. My parents and I sang Amazing Grace to her in the hospital a few days before she died. That was how I said goodbye.
But I don't think I'll have the strength to sing for grampa when his time comes... I'll do my best, but tears will probably overcome my voice before I finish the first verse. I've already decided that I'm going to take over his tradition of singing "Oh Holy Night" every Christmas Eve at church, but how long it will take before I can sing it without crying, or fighting not to cry, is beyond me.
I don't like crying... It never makes me feel any better, only worse... And yet this time, I don't think I'll be able to hold back the tears...
I don't want to accept it, but I have no choice. He probably only has a few weeks left, if even.
I haven't been going down and visiting him as much as I should... I hate seeing him like this. I mean, all my life he's been this big strong Grampa, quick of wit and an always dirty sense of humor. And now? Now he doesn't even have the energy to get out of bed in the morning. The wit is still there, and his mind is still sharp, but he's trapped in a body that's broken and weak... And I hate to see him like that.
Grampa has always been a huge part of my life. Always after school when me and my brothers were in grade school, the bus would take us down to Gramma and Grampa's house because my parents had to work. Gramma would always have a great afternoon snack layed out for us, and once a week or so, Grampa would get out his fancy popcorn maker and make us kids the perfect popcorn. If you asked us then, we would have all sworn that he could have won an award if he ever participated in a cooking contest. He and Gramma took care of us until our parents could come home to pick us up and take us home, and we usually saw them more then we saw our own parents during the week day.
When I was younger still, not even in kindergarten yet, I remember sitting on his lap in his big chair and watching the Price is Right with him every day. Those memories will always hold a special place for me in my heart... I only hope they don't fade away after time.
I always had this sort of dream, this wish, that Grampa would be there when I got married... That he would get a chance to meet my children some day, his first great grandchildren. But now it looks as if once again, those dreams were in vain.
I've never had a major death in my family... I grew up with two sets of grandparents, tons of aunts and uncles, and parents who love and care about each other even after almost 30 years. My great aunt, Grampa's sister, died in March from cancer, and though I cared about her, we were never all that close. Spent holidays together, yeah, and maybe stopped over at their house a few times, but she was never a big part of my life. And when she finely did pass on, I was just happy she wasn't suffering anymore. My parents and I sang Amazing Grace to her in the hospital a few days before she died. That was how I said goodbye.
But I don't think I'll have the strength to sing for grampa when his time comes... I'll do my best, but tears will probably overcome my voice before I finish the first verse. I've already decided that I'm going to take over his tradition of singing "Oh Holy Night" every Christmas Eve at church, but how long it will take before I can sing it without crying, or fighting not to cry, is beyond me.
I don't like crying... It never makes me feel any better, only worse... And yet this time, I don't think I'll be able to hold back the tears...