Death is hard. I don’t care how young or old you are, it’s still sad. Whether the person has been in long term pain or something suddenly happens, your loved ones still cry. My grandfather was a great man and had been in and out of the hospital since before Thanksgiving and I am happy about the time I had spent with him, but sad for the time my other family members couldn’t or even chose not to. My regrets, I regret not going with my mom and my sister every Sunday to see him, I regret not taking him to his doctors appointment that week that he fell (granted he didn’t tell anyone that he fell, and if he did he didn’t tell them that he was in pain). I don’t blame myself for his passing, he was 87, I just think that maybe he could have made it a little longer if someone made him go to the hospital sooner than he did (the pain became unbearable so he finally told someone that he was hurt, he broke 6 ribs). Today is Wednesday, March 7, 2012 and I will never see my grandfather alive again, never see him put his glasses on the tip of his nose and growl at me (that’s how he got the name Grumps), never hear his voice, never hear him sing to me… A-N-G-E-L spells Mary. I love my grandfather, my Grumps.
Say hi to Grandma up there!
