94 Years.
Monday evening my grandfather died. Now it happened. It’s strange. In a way I guess we’ve been waiting for it to happen. It was clear that he wouldn’t live a lot longer, so it surely wasn’t a surprise.
Still, when my mother told me it came as a shock. I guess it always does. There’s this quote from Buffy (and no, I don’t feel weird quoting Buffy when talking about my dead grandfather) when Tara says: ‚It’s always sudden.‘ Yes it is. You know it’s going to happen and you know that it’s not a bad thing and considering how bad he was these last days, probably a relief, but it’s still sudden.
And sad. And shocking.
Another strange thing is that I had planned to come see him on Monday after work, but then I had to work late and couldn’t leave until 7 and when we got home this was pretty much the first news I heard. Strange to think that if I hadn’t worked so late, I would’ve been there when he died. But I also think that this maybe was meant to be. When I left him on Sunday he seemed really fine and even managed to speak about three words. None of which I could understand, but I know how exhausting it was for him to even say ‚yes‘, so three words – regardless of what they were – were an amazing effort. I remember how at one point he held my hand and held it real firm and I was amazed by the strength he still had left.
So these are the last memories I have and I think that this may be a good thing.
He died when he was 94 years and as far as I can tell he had a pretty good life. There’s not much more to wish for.