So. After months of wondering "will today be the day he dies?", my dad's father, my grandfather, has passed away. I am home currently for the funeral this weekend. Much like with my great grandmother 2 months ago, I had a gut feeling it would happen this week. I know that he's no longer in pain, so I'm holding it together pretty well. I cried once, while I was laying with B yesterday. It just sort of happened and I wept in his arms for a while.
My best memories of my grandfather from when I was a child are like this. He worked for the United States Postal Service for as long as I can remember. When I was visiting my grandparents in the summer and whatnot, I could expect to see him around lunch time. He would come home from the post office to have lunch. He'd make a sandwhich and have chips and I would join him. Afterward he would always pull out the Blue Bell Strawberry ice cream he had bought just for me. It was our favorite. Then he'd go back to work. In his light blue post office dress shirt.
The only thing that is getting to me is, I didn't get to talk to him again. ugh.
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