I'm sitting on a plane, finally on the last leg of my flight home. Pop died on Friday night. It was so sudden I was stunned. He has had more health problems than anyone I know for as long as I can remember. But Friday night, Terri Lynn took him to the hospital because he was having chest pains. Everyone went home, he went to sleep and never woke up. Mom called at about 4am. I hate those phone calls. I hate hearing her say "well, I've got some bad news for you Bev". I think I'll start hanging up during that sentence. Anyway, I spent a terrible lonely day yesterday and last night I went online to buy my ticket. This is going to suck. But I need it, too, I know. God it's so hard to be so far away for the good times, devastating for the bad.

So, how to grieve? I barely slept that night. Woke up after about 4 hours, had some cereal, went back to bed and woke again about an hour later - bawling my eyes out. I walked for 2 1/2 hours, went to see my boys for some love. The tears are coming sporadically now. I'm just glad that I am going home to be with my family, to be able to talk about him and visit Nan and say goodbye. I must stop writing now - the tears are causing my nose to run and the people around me are probably getting pissed. And my hand hurts.




About my grandfather:

I know that everyone has their own memories about Pop. Some are good. Some are not so good. But I would like to tell you about my grandfather, who he was in my eyes. Pop was a very intelligent man. My oldest and strongest memories of him are following him into his computer room and watching in awe as he showed me all of the amazing things that funny little TV type box could do. That man could make a list like nobody's business!

And he was always at something, always tinkering, always in the middle of a project. I would be his willing subject when he was working on some new trick photography with the video camera. I was his appreciating audience when he bought yet another organ and he would show me all the new-fangled tricks this one let him perform. And he made me feel special when he took the time to be with me.

One of our mutually favorite memories (and I know this because the story has been told during almost every visit for the past eighteen years) was that year that we came home for Christmas holidays and there was a snow storm on New Year's Eve. We were supposed to go to Fred & Barb's in Kelligrews but the weather wouldn't allow it. I was pretty bummed out and I stood at the door in the kitchen, watching the snow fall. Pop came up behind me and pushed me out onto the back deck in my stocking feet and locked the door behind me. He was pretty pleased with himself and laughed and teased while I tried to get back in. He finally showed some mercy and opened the door. When it closed behind me, a bunch of snow came in, too, and we had a snowball fight in the kitchen. A fourteen year old girl and her grandfather flinging snow at each other indoors in the middle of the night. That is not only my favorite memory of Pop, it's one of my favorite memories of my life. And, so I have come home to celebrate the life of my favorite grandfather who I will always love and always miss and will always think of with a smile.

I love you, Pop.