Dear Papa,
I’m sitting at my desk watching home videos and looking at photos as I wait for that dreaded call, the call that you’re gone. And as I’m sitting here, I’m upset at myself because I can’t remember a whole lot about you during my childhood.
But as I’m watching the videos I can clearly see the type of Grandpa you are. You’re the type of Grandpa that never turned down any of your grandchildren when they ran over to sit on your lap. You’re the type of Grandpa that was the first one to offer up your trusty pocketknife when one of us had a toy that needed to be opened. You’re the type of Grandpa that was always there with a slick comeback or witty remark. But most importantly, you’re the type of Grandpa that was always there, and even when you couldn’t be, you made sure to ask about whatever it was that you couldn’t be at.
Even though I can’t remember those memories of you when I was a child, I do remember almost every Saturday morning, while in my teens, you and Grandma would bring Mom and Dad coffee and just hang out at the house. We would sit and watch whatever sports game was on that day. You never said too much, but when you did, you always had the right words to say (even if it was incredibly inappropriate).
As I got older and went off the college, I will always remember seeing you every holiday. I don’t think there’s a time when you missed even one. Even when you were fighting cancer, you were always there. When it would come time to say goodbye and head back to wherever I was living at the time, you’d give me a hug, kiss my cheek, and say, “now you let somebody know when you get home safe, okay?”.
All of those memories I will cherish forever, but I’ll never forget the last good day I had with you. You were all jokes that day. Somebody should’ve given you a microphone because we could have gone viral with the jokes you were cracking. It’s the first time I had seen you act like YOU in a long time. You joked all day. You even requested a Bob’s hotdog that day, which everyone was shocked by. You ate half of it, and you said it was the best wiener you’d ever tasted. Once again, getting us all to laugh in the middle of a dark and confusing situation.
You stayed awake all day long, and we were all wondering when you were going to fall asleep, but you didn’t, so we watched Nascar instead. I had no idea what was going on, and even though it was hard for you to talk, you explained the rules of the race to me, and we got to watch a couple of gnarly accidents.
You were determined to stay up until the end of that race, even though Grandma was begging you to go to sleep, (I’m pretty sure it was her that wanted to go to sleep though). Throughout the rest of the race, we all just talked. Somehow the conversation of my mental health came up and we began to talk about my anxiety and depression. You stopped me instantly and looked right at me and said, “you’re seeing somebody about this, right?”. I told you yes, I was seeing somebody, and you told me not to stop going…You were lying on your death bed, and you were worried about me. You were making sure I was okay.
I’m sure you broke the tension by saying something ridiculous and we continued to chat and finished watching the race. As the race was winding down, we all got up to gather our things and get ready to leave for the night. I walked up to your bed and leaned over to give you a hug, and as always, you gave me a kiss on the cheek, but this time, instead of saying make sure you get home safe, you said, “Now, you come see me again, okay?”.
I promise, Papa, that one day, I will come to see you again, but until that day, if you have time in-between those 18 holes, you’re playing up there, at least try to remember to let one of us know that you made it home safe, Papa.
I love you.
Your granddaughter,
Jolee
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