surreal

It's a cold and blustery day...I made a pot of chili, hung a few wreaths, and played a little Christmas music in hopes to cheer myself up a bit. Grandpa died this morning. It all feels so surreal...like it didn't really happen. His decline began last Friday night when he fell and hit his head on a nearby bookcase. We later learned he had a bleed in his brain, requiring immediate surgery. According to the doctors, the surgery went well, and they expected a complete recovery - as complete as you can expect for an 89 year old, anyway. To begin with, all were optimistic...when nurses administered oxygen, his strength was evident as he forcefully pushed the mask away from his face. However, by this morning, the doctors were growing concerned as he failed to progress as expected. As Uncle Dale met with doctors discussing their options, Grandpa went into respiratory failure and died. When Dad called this morning, I heard his muffled cries and knew what the next words out of his mouth would be. So, here I am, wishing I could hear Grandpa call me Lubberdubber Dee one more time, wishing he'd be there again this Christmas to give me one more box of chocolate covered cherries. They're gone...both gone - just like that, in only a months time. In a life filled with change, including many moves and mom and dad's divorce, Grandma and Grandpa represented such strength and stability in my life.

With Nat King Cole now crooning, Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire and tears streaming down my cheeks, I wrap Grandma's afghan a little tighter around my shoulders and conclude - thankful for my memories and the legacy they began 70 years ago.