Dear Grandpa.

It's been two years since we've spoken.  There are so many things I would have liked to say before it was too late.  I was just at your house two days before the stroke.  In my opinion it was far too soon.  I was just getting to that age where I realized time is precious; every single minute is a blessed one.  I remember back to that September day, it was a Sunday afternoon...one of the last weekends where you can feel summer fading out each night growing chillier.  I remember pulling onto 9th street  and thinking that I didn't have much time to visit.  I had places to be & errands to run.  Grandma was watering the plants around the outside of the house...typical.  She was filling the watering can from the big barrel that I used to play in.  I remember as a small child you telling me not to drink that water, and use it to make a sandcastle in my tractor tire sandbox you made for me instead.  You were sitting in your folding chair that was clearly outdated from the 70's smoking a cigarette in the driveway by the garage.  I can't remember a time in my life where I didn't hate cigarettes.  I stopped over to drop off jeans for Grandma to patch, & that was it.  As I stepped out of my car you greeted me with "How you doin' hot shot?" & proceeded to tell me to pull up a chair.  I couldn't say no now.  You always had a way with suckering me in for a good chat; almost making me feel guilty for lost time.  I sat there for an hour with you.  I thoroughly enjoyed our talk.  We spoke about my new classes, how school was going, how I was anxious for my senior year, how Zach was, and about my siblings.  I remember you talking about how fast my senior year will go and "When you leave that gymnasium in May, throw your hat high, and know that the world is yours, the world is truly yours.  You will be holding the world in your hands."  You never were philosophical with me, and I definitely wasn't expecting anything so deep that day.  With that being said I gave Grandma my pants I needed patched (the only reason I really stopped) and left.  I had to get off to work, so I said goodbye and I love you.  I was going to see you the following Friday for Josh's 5th birthday party anyway so I didn't bother giving hugs.  This I regret tremendously.  It was Wednesday the 23rd, Josh's birthday.  I realized at school that I needed those jeans & knew that Grandma was done with them.  So I stopped by after school quickly before yet another shift at the Americinn.  I expected you to be on the couch dozing off, watching an old western with a cigarette and a sandwich.  As soon as I pulled in the driveway I knew something wasn't quite right since Grandma's car was in the garage...meaning she was home rather than at work.  I walked in the house & Grandma was making phone calls and crying.  I remember that big hard pit in my stomach.  I immediately went to the living room to find it empty.  I cried right on the spot.  What was going on?  How come I'm the last to know? Why didn't someone call or text me at school?  Grandma got off the phone & muttered something about a stroke.  She went on to say that you were air lifted to Hennepin County Medical Center stroke unit in the cities earlier this morning.  They weren't sure if you were going to be okay.  This was happening wayyyy too fast. I was in complete denial.  This wasn't fair. I felt so guilty.  I didn't even give you a hug or anything on Sunday.  I remember as a pre-teenager dreading that this day, but knew it was sadly and only a matter of time.  Things were looking slightly better as the week went on.  You were sedated, but still breathing. Thank the Lord.  The doctors were slowly making progress on you.  On Saturday night at work, my dad called me to ask if I wanted to go to the cities with him to visit you.  I was hesitant because we'd have to leave at 6am (I had to work until 11pm that night) But I said I would because I knew this obviously wasn't a good situation.  It was a Vikings game day in the cities that Sunday.  Grandma & Jerry didn't want to brave the traffic.  So it would just be me & dad.  Perfect. I hadn't had much father-daughter time lately anyways.  I was almost looking forward to it; after all, things were looking up.  I slept the entire way to the cities.  Upon getting to HCMC it was a 10 minute walk from the parking ramp to your room in the Stroke unit.  I was getting so eager and impatient to finally see you, hoping, just hoping you'd be awake today to talk with us.  I remember walking into the unit and looked up at my dad to see where he was about to take me...he knew right where your room was.  To my surprise dad was frozen in his tracks.  His face was pale and numb looking.  That big pit dropped my stomach again, and my throat got tight.  A nurse asked if we needed assistance & who we were looking for.  My dad just pointed to what was supposed to be your room.  I could feel my throat closing and eyes welling with tears when I saw the 15 medical staff in your room and your body flopping like a fish on the bed.  My knees got weak.  I wanted to rewind.  This couldn't possibly be happening.  That was you, MY Grandpa.  This was my senior year in high school.  We just talked about this a week ago.  The nurse quickly grabbed a doctor.  The doctor said you were under cardiac arrest at the VERY moment and that we could go in to onlook...Was he fucking retarded??!! Yeah, I totally want to see you like that.  NOT.  I burst into sobs & ran away.  They brought us to a private waiting room down the hall.  I pulled myself together for my dad's sake.   I know he hates seeing me cry.  An agonizing 20 minutes passed.  A foreign doctor came in to say that they couldn't revive you and that you were barely making it on life support & asked my dad if he knew your final wishes. OH MY GOD. This cannot be happening.  My dad made a few phone calls and Grandma & Jerry left the house immediately.  The doctor said there was only a 10 percent or less chance of survival.  He said we were welcome to go in the room and say our goodbyes to you.  I have never cried so hard in all my life.  I never ever expected this so soon or wanted this.  You were only 68.  My heart was breaking with every step I took toward your door.  I went for a walk while dad spoke with you.  My dad called me to say that I could come say goodbye.  You looked so peaceful, yet my emotions were so distraught.  The chair was just as wobbly as my emotions.  I held your hand.  You didn't have a mustache.  That was another first...never saw you without that.  You were yellow, jaundice like, and didn't even come close to looking like your plump self, much skinnier.  I didn't understand how this happened half a year ago...and now it was turning into reality all over again.  We weren't going to be able to take you home this time.  This time it would be a different "home;" heaven.  I cried and said how sorry I was for not coming to the hospital sooner.  I was bawling.  My eyes stung so badly.  At that moment in time I knew, being your eldest grandchild, I had to man up and just say goodbye already.  There wasn't anything anyone could do to turn this around.  Your brain was much too damaged to fix.  Dad was staring out the window holding back the tears.  He was trying to stay just strong for me.  As I said "Goodbye Grandpa, I love you,"  the breathing tube settled and the EKG went flat.  You passed as I was holding your hand.  Dad held me in his arms for minutes; we cried together.  In all 17 years of my life I've never seen my dad shed a tear. Not once.  He told me how glad he was that I came with that day & how much he knew I meant to you.  The funeral was the following Wednesday; It meant so much to me to have Alissa sing at your funeral.  I was hurting though.  This wasn't fair.  I wanted you to see me graduate high school.  I wanted you to witness the monster deer I will someday harvest.  I wanted you to approve of my fiance. I wanted you to be at my wedding. I wanted your to see my children someday.  There is so much that goes on in my life that I still get so excited to go home and tell you...Like when I decided on Bemidji State.  Dad said that you have always had lifelong connections with Bemidji, the land and history.  & when Grandma fitted my senior year prom dress...you always looked forward to seeing the final product come prom season.  & last year when I got a 96 on my Chemistry test. Geez.  When I go to "Grandma's house," sometimes she isn't there.  It is SO weird to me, still.  I can't bring myself to sit in that spot on the couch.  That's your spot.  I can't bring myself to go in that room in the basement where all of your old hunting stuff was.  Or your garage stall.  My throat still gets dry when I go into Grandma's room and the bed is still slightly askew on your side of the bed; so you could get up in the middle of the night comfortably.  Or the pictures Grandma still has up...& more & more are around the house now that you're gone.  Or this year on my birthday...the minute I woke up, I didn't think about how fun of a day I had planned, instead I thought of you first.  How I didn't get to call you or stop over on OUR birthday.  I would do almost anything for just another hour with you.  There are so many stories I was hoping to hear.  Lessons to learn from you.  I miss you so much.  Save me a spot up there. :) 
Love. B.