My grandfather died this Christmas.
It was a long time coming, to be honest. I’ve been grieving him in little ways for years as he worked his way through all the stages of Alzheimer’s. People always ask if he remembered me. The truth? No, he forgot who I was years ago. But, until the very end, he knew I was a comforting presence. He knew he loved me. Until the very end, he was funny. He never lost his wicked sense of humor, and he’d quip along with the best of them. For a few years there, I spent every Thursday morning with my grandpa, just the two of us. We’d sip coffee and eat cookies for breakfast and just talk. I would regale him with tales of my friends, the things I wanted to do, the crystals I had loaded in my pockets. He would politely try not to fall asleep. I got him to tell me a lot about his life that way. I learned about all his adventures across the western U.S., the trips he took with my grandmother, the northern lights they saw in Alaska. Every year for Valentine’s Day, my grandpa would send a bouquet of flowers to me, my mother and my grandma. As kids, my brother and I would spend hours in his office, drawing pictures that he’d hang up on the walls. When my uncle — his son — died, my grandfather, who loved woodworking, carved a dozen colorful butterflies. I will miss him.
I’m very lucky to have known my grandfather at all, let alone for almost 26 years of my life. He lived a good, long life. I’m trying to focus on those first 16 years, the man I knew before the Alzheimer’s. I’m hoping that, with time, some of those sharper memories from the past few years will dull and be replaced with fonder times from when we were younger and he was more present. He was prone to melancholic, out-of-nowhere questions in the final few months. The last time my family all hung out together, before an accident last month that would ultimately accelerate the end, my grandpa looked around at the room full of people who love him and said, “I wonder where we’ll all be this time next year.” I guess you never really know the answer to questions like that. I didn’t think that night would be the last time he’d hug me, but it was. Maybe he did know, on some level, and that’s why he said it. Life is strange like that sometimes. If you are lucky enough to love someone — anyone — in your life, hug them a little tighter this holiday season. I wish us all peace in the new year.
