Today it hit me. My Grandpa died in the ICU 2 weeks, 5 days ago. I haven’t stepped foot into another ICU, which is very odd for me seeing that I work in a hospital. Today I had to go into the ICU. I didn’t think anything of it. Went right to the patient room and laughed and joked with him and his wife. Told them goodbye and I turned the corner and it was like I was there. It was like I had just put my hand sanitizer on and walked through the doors to his room. I couldn’t breathe for a second. I wonder how my face appeared. I kept going. I didn’t want to. I wanted to just stop in my tracks and cry. I didn’t. I still remember it as if I were there yesterday. Sitting at his bedside. Cracking jokes with my family and the nurses because it hurt to much to cry. I still remember what he looked like as his spirit left his body. His poor body. It was so bruised and battered. He was in a car accident. I hate car accidents. They have claimed three people, all of whom I love dearly, in my life. Gosh I miss him.
I was lying in bed tonight. Thinking about him. About his sweet face. Contagious laughter. I thought about his smile. Then about how his lips looked as he took his last breath. I thought about how they stitched them for the visitation. He looked so different. They had to cake so much makeup on him. They stuffed him. That is so strange. I forgot about him being cremated. His ashes are with my mom, along with my aunt and uncle. I couldn’t sleep tonight thinking about this. Funny how my thoughts keep my awake. Strange the things I think about. Gosh, I still really cannot believe he is gone.
Gone. I hate it.
Why do we wait until after someone is gone to want to have spent more time with them? Why is that? Why do we kill ourselves working a million hours and push our family to the side? Why do we neglect the ones we love, until it’s too late? Family is everything. I hate how a tragedy is the only thing that brings a family closer. It’s pathetic. There are so many things I learned about my Grandpa after he died, that I wish I could’ve had those conversations with him.
He loved the Lord. I always knew deep down that he did, but never knew to what extent. He used to take my sisters and I to church with him and I never thought too much of it. He collected Bibles and used to give a few to us. I still remember where they are in my parent’s house. On the top of the banister at the top step, collecting dust. What a shame. I would have loved to have conversations with him about the Lord and his walk with Him. I wish I could have shared my journey. It makes me sad that I didn’t spend enough time with him. I could never imagine my child doing the same with my mother or father.
Something has to change.
I kept telling myself and my family this phrase. Honestly, if it takes God calling my Grandpa home for us to grow closer as a family, then it is worth it. I hate to admit that, but it is. I don’t want his passing to be in vain. Today I make it my mission to carry on his legacy through our family as we grow closer together. If this means we miss a little work, so be it. If it means, we ditch our friends for our family, fine. If this means we go the extra step, even if we don’t feel like it, then it’s worth it. Grandpa you are worth all the hurt and the pain to carry on your legacy. Unconditional love.
I love you.