To borrow my sister's words, his passing was the way we all had hoped it would be. He was at home and didn't suffer; we never had to move him to a nursing home or watch him wither away in a hospital bed. But the suddenness of his passing caught us all by surprise. We didn't have a chance to say good bye.
Now, even more so than at the time, I am incredibly thankful we were able to spend Christmas Eve with Grandpa. We rearranged the cows' milking schedule to include five milkings in two days so we could be at Grandpa's for a couple hours on Christmas Eve. It was the best Christmas present ever. The gathering felt just like old times – everyone was there – and Grandpa was so happy. His slowing was apparent, but he sat smiling, listening.
We spent two more days together during our Christmas break. During our visit to his house the second day, Grandpa was just like I always want to remember him. He entertained us with stories from years gone by, from a whole different time. His storytelling and remarkable memory were two of his finest traits.
Grandpa had heard that I was writing again. He had always been my biggest fan. But he said he couldn't read anymore, his eyes didn't work right. I'm sure that bothered him more than any of us could have known. So, Grandpa, when you get a chance to read this, give Grandma a hug for me and know that you were the best grandfather a girl could have. I love you.
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