Grandpa
Dear Grandpa,
I'm so glad I had the opportunity to know you. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to deal with my grief. I feel like I've done everything to put off thinking about your death, but it's like a giant road block in my mind. I've tried going around it, but the only way to really get past it is to push straight through. Anyway, maybe if I deal with it like a civilized human being, I'll stop breaking down at strange times and places over stupid things. So here I am, forcing myself to think about how much I'm going to miss you, and how I wish my kids had gotten to know you better.
The last time we visited, I was surprised at how you came and took Buster from Grandma just because you wanted to hold the baby. I think you were a little shocked by how heavy he actually was when you initially picked him up. I don't remember you being overly affectionate as I was growing up, but you were always very attentive. When the adults were all having their own conversations, you seemed to always be aware of what was going on with the children. And without fail, you would stand up for a hug when it was time for us to leave.
There are so many things about you that are a mystery, but I know a lot about you just by the way you acted. Mostly I know you must have been a great father because my dad is also pretty great, and he has so much respect for you. I know that my dad inherited his strong work ethic from you, and did his best to pass it on to us. I must have gotten my dry (and sometimes inappropriate) sense of humor from you through my dad because I can't really credit it to anyone else, and I'm not sure anyone else would really want to take credit. You weren't too religious by any means, but you had your principles and we all know that you stood for what mattered. You loved family, hunting, the outdoors, and John Wayne, I most recently learned. I'll never forget the handheld poker games you and Grandma played. You guys never acted bothered when we kids wanted to push the buttons and completely ruin you scores.
I know your mind started slipping a little these last few years. It was probably hard for you, and I know it was hard for the rest of us to see you struggle through without being able to offer much help. On the other hand, I also noticed that you lost a lot of your inhibitions and I got to know a new side of you. (Who knows, maybe one day you and I will be able to laugh about the time you ran away to Elko to win the poker tournament you'd been watching on TV.) I feel very strongly, that dementia or no, you were very aware that you were surrounded by so many people who loved you when you passed on. I am honored to have been there for that oh-so-peaceful moment to feel the spirit that we all felt.
People have been telling me how lucky I am to get to my age and only have lost one grandparent. I'm sure they're right, but it doesn't really feel lucky right now. It feels pretty tragic at the moment. However, I'm happy to know that this isn't the end, and I'll be able see you again. I love you very much.
Love,
Megan
Robert (Bob) Clyde Hadley, 78, surrounded by his loving family, peacefully returned to his Heavenly Father Wednesday, December 9, 2009 at McKay-Dee Hospital.
I'm so glad I had the opportunity to know you. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to deal with my grief. I feel like I've done everything to put off thinking about your death, but it's like a giant road block in my mind. I've tried going around it, but the only way to really get past it is to push straight through. Anyway, maybe if I deal with it like a civilized human being, I'll stop breaking down at strange times and places over stupid things. So here I am, forcing myself to think about how much I'm going to miss you, and how I wish my kids had gotten to know you better.
The last time we visited, I was surprised at how you came and took Buster from Grandma just because you wanted to hold the baby. I think you were a little shocked by how heavy he actually was when you initially picked him up. I don't remember you being overly affectionate as I was growing up, but you were always very attentive. When the adults were all having their own conversations, you seemed to always be aware of what was going on with the children. And without fail, you would stand up for a hug when it was time for us to leave.
There are so many things about you that are a mystery, but I know a lot about you just by the way you acted. Mostly I know you must have been a great father because my dad is also pretty great, and he has so much respect for you. I know that my dad inherited his strong work ethic from you, and did his best to pass it on to us. I must have gotten my dry (and sometimes inappropriate) sense of humor from you through my dad because I can't really credit it to anyone else, and I'm not sure anyone else would really want to take credit. You weren't too religious by any means, but you had your principles and we all know that you stood for what mattered. You loved family, hunting, the outdoors, and John Wayne, I most recently learned. I'll never forget the handheld poker games you and Grandma played. You guys never acted bothered when we kids wanted to push the buttons and completely ruin you scores.
I know your mind started slipping a little these last few years. It was probably hard for you, and I know it was hard for the rest of us to see you struggle through without being able to offer much help. On the other hand, I also noticed that you lost a lot of your inhibitions and I got to know a new side of you. (Who knows, maybe one day you and I will be able to laugh about the time you ran away to Elko to win the poker tournament you'd been watching on TV.) I feel very strongly, that dementia or no, you were very aware that you were surrounded by so many people who loved you when you passed on. I am honored to have been there for that oh-so-peaceful moment to feel the spirit that we all felt.
People have been telling me how lucky I am to get to my age and only have lost one grandparent. I'm sure they're right, but it doesn't really feel lucky right now. It feels pretty tragic at the moment. However, I'm happy to know that this isn't the end, and I'll be able see you again. I love you very much.
Love,
Megan
Robert (Bob) Clyde Hadley, 78, surrounded by his loving family, peacefully returned to his Heavenly Father Wednesday, December 9, 2009 at McKay-Dee Hospital.
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