Never Say Good-Bye - April 22

I never knew that this would be the last good-bye, hug and kiss, and I love you that I would tell my grandpa but everyday I am grateful for the opportunity I had to spend his last good day with him. Not knowing that it was the last time I would see him and talk with him makes this good-bye one of the hardest I have ever said. I can always think back to that day in February 3 years ago and wish I would have stayed longer and not rushed to basketball practice. Maybe I could have given him one more day if I had stayed because at the time I thought he was getting better. Little did I know, that day was his final burst of energy before he passed away two days later. At the time it wasn’t hard to say good-bye to him because I thought I would see him the next day in just as good of a mood. The hard thing about this good-bye is that I never thought it would be my last. I had always prayed that he would eventually overcome the alcoholism that plagued his body. We even talked about how he would sober up and be at my wedding one day, healthy and happy, but this past December all that I had of him was his rosary tied to my bouquet, my something old, but my never forgotten Pop Pop. The final day that I spent with Pop Pop though will always be cherished in my heart because I was lucky enough to have him on his last good day here on earth. He had recently gotten out of the hospital for retaining water because his liver was failing because of the years of drinking he had done. A couple of days later I went by to check on him and he needed to go to the store so I said I would take him but had to be at basketball practice by 7 that night so we would have to hurry. We slowly made our way to my car, he was using a walker. When we got to Flummerfelts he decided that he had to use the electric buggy and so we started piling in the groceries. He was hilarious on that buggy, backing up and making it beep, trying not to run people over as he went. I am pretty sure that he bought way too much food for himself but he was enjoying himself so I just went along with it. He was making plans to have a pot roast, some fried tacos, some potatoes, all these comfort foods. I like to think now that he spent so much time in the store so that he could spend more time with me., like somewhere inside him he knew he didn’t have much longer.  When I dropped him back off at home that evening he was in a wonderful mood and even got his pot roast started. I headed to basketball practice just a little late but I was okay with that. The next day I didn’t expect the phone call that came to tell me Pop Pop had been taken to Cox Monett because he was unresponsive. I would later find out that how I left him the evening before in his chair was how they found him, his roast was uneaten, and the hospice lady had found him incoherent the next day. We all knew that it wouldn’t be long so we said our good-byes to Pop Pop that evening. I still like to think that my trip to Flummerfelts with him was my final good-bye, it was the last time I got to see him as his old self. Pop Pop’s death still affects me today, especially when life-changing events occur that I would like him to be at, like my wedding. It breaks my heart to realize that my children will never know their great grandpa; they will only have the stories that we tell to keep his memory alive.