Last night, when the phone rang, I was busy nursing Vic and trying to unwind after a difficult day. I wasn’t expecting a phone call from my mother. Yet, when Sabs picked it up, that’s who was calling. He came to the top of the stairs and called down to me to pick it up.
We spoke about trivial things, I told her how yucky the day had been. Then she sighed and said quietly that my grandfather had passed away. He died quietly in his sleep yesterday.
I guess I was in shock last night because I couldn’t come up with anything to feel. But today I am haunted by sadness and anger and a difficulty in keeping my emotions at bay.
In some ways, his passing is a relief because he is no longer in pain, no longer a spirit trapped in a broken body. But I am still sad and I will miss him.
The memories that he shared with me last May have become all the more precious to me now. This morning I went in search of the notebook that I scrawled them down in and carefully stowed it in a basket next to my desk so I can retrieve it later and sort out the snippets of stories, the names and dates and turn them into a cohesive whole, a small gift to share with my family, to remember Grandpa by.
Goodnight Grampie. Rest well. I love you.