Moving sucks, which I’m doing right now. But what makes it even worse is my Granddad is about to die, 2-3 days max left. I had my final phone conversation with him this morning. It was rough, for both of us. He could barely talk, he sounded so weak, weaker then I’ve ever heard another human sound, he sounded defeated and that he knew death is hours away. That was the toughest phone conversation I’ve ever had. But in the end, death will claim us all. I tried to convey what he meant to me, I told him I loved him and thanked him for always being there, teaching me how to read, mediating between my Mom and I when we didn’t get along very well, offering to let me live with them if needed, thanked him for living for so much longer then his docs thought and for being such a big part of my life. He has even outlived some of his doctors. The ravages of time take us all. After four or five different types of cancer, CABG x5, CABG x4, multiple heart attacks I never thought I’d see 30 and still have him around, much less approaching 40. He has been given last rights more times then I can remember. He always manages to pull through. But time will be the exception.
For 15 years I knew this day would come, knew I’d never see him again or speak to him, knew he would never be there one more time. It’s no easier, even though I’ve collapsed on the floor in shambles of his impending death more then once after the final phone call or visit. This time, it’s for real. And it sucks.