That's the song lyric that's been stuck in my head for the last hour or so since I decided I was going to force myself to sit down and update, and update GOOD. There's a lot to cover, and I need to get it done with.
Part of the drama, heartbreak, and sheer crazyness that has happened since the June 30th posting about closure, is that my Grandpa passed away. Yes the husband to the grandma I lost in May. They were together for 60 years, and though there were various contributors to the death of my grandpa, I think ultimately he just died of a broken heart.
I will admit, for quite some time I wanted to as well. I still find myself overcome with greif at random times of random days. I still sob myself to sleep over never being able to see them on Earth again. I am devestated that I don't have them to consult on life's big issues, complaint to about the little things, to get their opinion on anything, to pray for me, to laugh with, to just sit with and watch Wheel Of Fortune.
BUT- the simple fact that I have those memories, and the greater fact that they mean so much to me that I simply want to cry when thinking of them, is such a blessing. I know many people who never knew their grandparents. I am finding that I know even fewer people that have relationships similar to mine was with my grandparents, at all. The fact that I was blessed with 27 short years with those two amazing people, makes me so greatful.
I am heartbroken that my precious son doesn't get the same experiences that I did with them. Between my dad and I we are trying to keep some of those experiences going; we're trying to keep their house in the family so he can experience growing up there as well. It's bittersweet now to be in the house. It's still one of the few places that I feel truly at peace, but the vivid memories I have of my grandparents there are almost haunting.
The most heartbreaking thing about it all is the connection that my son had with both of them. Knowing that connection is never going to be broken gives me peace; but knowing that the form it has now taken is so distant, hurts. I know that they're checking in on him periodically. And I know that they always will. I just can't help but hate that he won't be able to hug them again.
Gramps passed while I was at a women's retreat through my church. I told two pastor's wives that I can't be angry about God calling my grandpa home, but I don't have to like it. I hate it most days.
I hate that they were at my first wedding, and how big of a mess that was and how big of a joke that marriage turned out to be...and that they'll never be able to physically meet my next husband. They won't be at that wedding.
I hate that neither I nor my son will ever get to hug them again. We'll never get to hold their hands; hear them laugh; see their smile.
I will see them again one day though. And I am overjoyed at that thought. I believe that they are in Heaven, and that they will meet me when I get there. And I can't think of a better couple of people to meet me than them.
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