Dear Grandpa

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To The Perfect Grandpa:

Looking at you in the hospital bed, slight and quiet, was disconcerting. Your skin so fair, it appeared translucent. The bruises from every poke & prod you'd endured, so glaring. Your belief that you are everyone's burden so prominently displayed across your face. 

The lump in my throat a reminder of the weight of where we were. And why. 

But as I pulled the chair up close to your bed and sat down, life danced across your eyes. There you were. Right where I left you. Right where you've always been. 

Since I was a little girl, you have had my heart. Trips to Buda-fest to ride rides. Sitting on the porch outside your "work" counting red cars as they passed by. Dancing on your feet. You have always been the perfect grandpa. 

The life you've lived, all 95 years and counting, is an epic story. Your middle name is Strong and nothing could be as perfect a representation of you. What strength is must have taken to be the youngest of 10; to get married to the love of your life and stay married for your entire life; to be a man who raised 4 sons who were raised to be men; to live with your family in Argentina and Mexico, a stranger in a foreign land. And look at what came of it ...
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Your sons are all so blessed to have been raised by a man who not only passed down his tall stature, but his larger-than-life character. You raised 4 men who are kind and funny and smart; who are genuine and caring and successful. Your sons gave you 6 grandchildren and 9 great-grandchildren: talented, loving and the amazing continuation of such an amazing man.
    
I am blessed to have lived so many years of my childhood visiting you on weekends, seeing the pride you had in me, talking to you for hours, learning your love for puzzles and letter writing. I am blessed to have given my children the chance to spend time with you, learn of you, learn from you. I am honored that my children all have your hunger for reading, love of writing, brilliant mind and witty humor. 


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I know that your end is near. Nearer than I'd like it to be, for sure. Probably not as near as you'd like it, tho. You have lived a wonderful and full 95 years. You have certainly earned the right to decide that you're done, and to go out on your terms in your own time. 

I promise to respect your decision. I promise to honor your choice. I can also promise that when your last day comes, it will knock the breath out of me. It will be selfish and inconsiderate, but I will be sad. It will be one of the hardest days of my life, despite the relief I know your soul will feel. 

I won't apologize for the selfish sadness I will feel because when you're gone, there will be another hole left right next to the one made when we lost Dad. The emptiness will be vast. With you will go my last ties to large chunks of my childhood, to stories of my father, to wisdom unavailable from anyone else. 

But I also promise to hold tight to every moment, to keep your spirit alive recounting our stories, retelling your tales and recalling my memories. This, my perfect Grandpa, I certainly can promise. 

You aren't gone yet tho. You can't get rid of me that easily, Old Man. There is still time to pull my chair close, take a seat, watch your eyes dance and soak you in.