This post may contain affiliate links. Please see my Disclosure statement for more details.
My friend Cheryl says deaths come in threes. I’m not sure I really believe that, but as this is the third time I’ve written an “in memoriam” post in the last few months, maybe she’s right.
Last night I got the call I’ve been waiting pretty much my entire adult life for. You see, until last night, I had all four of my grandparents still living. At 27, that is rare. It’s been so neat for Libbie to see all 7 great-grandparents at least twice in her short life.
I knew when the phone ring it would be bad news. Or maybe I just always think that? But I did know my dad was with my grandpa in the hospital in Ohio. So while it was not expected, exactly, it was not unexpected. My Grandpa (yes, long-German-last-name Grandpa) passed away. I *think* he was 87.
Things with Grandpa have been difficult the last few years, as he became older, more ornery, and sick. But when I think about the Grandpa of 15 years ago, who loved to travel, who always wore a jaunty hat, who always sang his own made-up part when we Christmas caroled (he still did that, even this Christmas), I ache with losing him. I wish Libbie could know him. I wish my other kids could meet him.
I am no longer a girl with four grandparents. I feel like I’m sliding into the sadness of adulthood.
It’s good we have this hope of forever. Really good. And I hope right now, Grandpa is dancing like he hasn’t danced in years, singing his own made-up harmony in a worship song to Jesus.