this week has been the hardest of my life so far. last thursday i was on the way to work and my dad called and told me to go to my grandparents because grandpa had collapsed. by the time i got there he had died. shock. disbelief. unfair. none of us were ready for this. but then again...when would we have been.as we stumbled our way through the weekend we talked as a family and we realized that he had known and had spent the last month preparing for his death. a month ago grandpa had said to me "heather, if you ever use my name in writing, use my full name, i have never liked 'max'." at the time i figured he meant if i was writing it at the office in a document, but on thursday morning as i wrote his obituary, i knew that this was what he had been talking about. i had people tell me that they found it odd seeing "maxwell" when they knew him as "max", but i told them that that is what he told me to do. how did he know? how did he deal with that information? I can't even imagine what i would do if i knew. but he did and he got his things in order and said goodbyes to his friends and family, indirectly, and was ready when it happened. even though the rest of us weren't.
my cousins and i wrote letters and tucked them under his arm when we said goodbye to him sunday night. i wonder what they wrote...what more did they have to say to him? i knew him for longer and i still had so much i wanted him to know, they must have had even more.
grandpa told me not long ago he wasn't afraid of death. how great would it be to be ready and have no regrets, and no fear. i miss him. i saw him there, like he was sleeping, and all i wanted was one more hug. i miss you grandpa...sleep well. "that's the way..."
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