Grandpa

My Grandpa passed away a week ago yesterday. He was 91 and going strong. A fall, about a month earlier, almost did him in. The trauma doctor gave him 48 hours to live due to the bleeding and swelling on his brain. True to form, he was up and walking and talking exactly a week later. Unfortunately, the hospital released him severely dehydrated, with low blood sodium and Pneumonia. That proved to be a lethal combination for him. It is so hard to think that we lost him due to negligence, when he was such a fighter.

He was born in 1918 and lost his mother when he was one and a half. During the Great Depression he and his sister were bounced from various family members across the country. He served in WWII and became a Colonel. He survived multiple motorcycle accidents, several power tool accidents, a quadruple bypass, at least one heart attack and carbon monoxide poisoning. He beat cancer twice. The second time the doctor gave him 1-3 months. Within two months the fatal mass was almost completely gone. A fighter.

My Grandpa loved his family. He was like a second father to me. He taught me how to drive his tractor, then how to drive a car, then how to drive a stick shift. He taught me how to use a band saw, a jig saw, a drill press and a belt sander. I spent much of my childhood summers at my Grandparent's house working with Grandpa (whether I wanted to work or not). He was creative, intelligent, generous, loving and dedicated to us. He was married to my Grandma for 67.5 years. Talk about setting the bar high! He was devoted to her like I have never seen before, being her constant care provider for many years now. I ache for her when I think about what it must feel like to have to wake up without him.

It was so hard to be at their house this past week and see him in everything there, but not be able to feel his hugs, hear his voice (outside of my head), or look into his sparkling blue eyes. Every time I would start to cry I could hear him saying to me, "You tender hearted thing.'', which he has said so many times before. And he was so proud to be a Great Grandfather. My girls call him "Papa" and I know that hearing them say that was music to his ears. We've had the good fortune to have spent several weeks with them over the past few summers and the girls so looked forward to going to Nana and Papa's. I hope that they'll retain some of those memories, of how he smiled when he saw them, of how much he loved them, of cuddling with him in "his" chair.

So the crafty stuff is on hold for a bit. I am exhausted from traveling over 1700 miles in five days with two young kids in tow. The two days that weren't spent driving were spent in the funeral home and at the funeral. And I'm about to turn around and travel another 360 miles on Saturday morning to visit with my Mom and see my Grandma in her new apartment. Here's hoping I can squeeze in a nap or two while Grandma and Grandpa mind the kids! Now go hug someone you love!