Goodbye, Grandpa O

My grandfather died on Friday night. My mom called Saturday morning. His death was sudden insofar that he wasn’t ill. On the other hand, he was 91 (a few months from 92) and had grown noticeably weaker when I saw him at Christmas, so death was not outside the realm of possibilities.

He died in his sleep, which is all any of us can hope for ourselves.

The funeral is today. I won’t be there. I always thought I would be there for his funeral, but I never anticipated him dying when I was 35 weeks pregnant and moving in 4 days. The logistics of travel just seem like too much right now. Still, I worry that not being there will mean I have a hard time grasping that he’s really gone.

At least I was able to spend time with him and my grandmother at Christmas. My husband was able to meet him on several occasions. I had, of course, been hoping that he would be able to meet his new great-grandson, but I knew those visits would be few and my son would be too young to remember them.

My grandfather was an extraordinary man. He served in the Air Force, including flying in combat during WWII. He was a professional photographer in a small town, and there are many people for whom he took senior photos then their wedding photos then their children’s senior photos then their children’s wedding photos. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that he was happily married to my grandmother for over 70 years.

To all the emotions of being pregnant and setting up a new home sadness has been added. I pack a box, have a crying jag, and go on.

I will miss you, Grandpa.