Paternal grandfather

”Hey, I just need to tell you that your grandfather died. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Of course, I would worry about him even if he told me not to. Instinctively, I put down the stuff in my hands and gave him a hug. I know that he’s never been very close with his father and that the divorce at age 12 was very hard on him. I know that he hated that he had to choose between seeing his sisters or his father because one of his sisters weren’t speaking to their father at all. It was unfair of him and his wife to send a postcard to my parents saying that they were sad that they didn’t get invited to celebrate him turning 50.

Still, he was his father. I know that he’s been sick for a while and the last few months it have been really bad: the blood poisoning and having to amputate one of his legs. I’ve heard my father say more times than I want to remember that if he’s ever hooked up to a machine, he would want us to pull the plug.

Today, I heard him on the phone telling one of his colleagues and he said that he was relieved. Maybe he really was. It’s horrible watching someone fight a terminal illness that sooner or later will win out. I wasn’t very close with my paternal grandfather and have yet to cry over him. I don’t know if I ever will.

When I lost my maternal grandfather, I was teary-eyed for days and sometimes when I think back on happy memories I can still tear up. But the relationships were very different. I saw my maternal grandfather much more and all those happy memories keep him alive inside my heart while I can’t recall ever thinking that fondly of my father’s father.

It’s his funeral today and neither my brother nor I are going. He had school and I’ve got an important test tomorrow. My friends and my riding instructor told me that I need to grieve and that I should go to the funeral.

It wasn’t expected of me to go, at least not by my parents. I didn’t really feel like it since the last funeral I was at was seven years ago when my maternal grandfather died and I remember being really sad the whole day.

Now, I’m older and wiser but I hope that I won’t have to experience too many funerals. I’m sad for his wife because I know how much my maternal grandmother struggled and still struggle today with being alone. It’s horrible when you’ve lived with someone for so long to have him ripped from your life, even if he's have been hospitalised for a while before it happens.

I’m worried for my father, even though he told me I shouldn’t be. He rarely cries and is a tough guy for most parts. I know he has tons of reasons to dislike his father but that doesn’t change that they are father and son.

I can’t help but imagine if I were to lose my father how utterly devastated that I would have been. I know I’m younger and still living at home and maybe that worsens it but I don’t think so. I’m afraid that I’ll lose my relationship with my father once I move out and start building my own life. My mother is amazing at reaching out and talks to her own mother almost every a week. But it's different with my father; we would never meet up with any of his family if it weren’t for his sisters reaching out.

I’m sad for my grandfather's wife and his children, both those with whom he was on good terms with and those whom he wasn’t. He worked hard his entire life and it physically wore him out. I hope that he is now at peace.

I hope that my father doesn’t keep the emotions bottled up. I hope that he cries at his father’s funeral and I know that my mother will be there to support him if he needs it. He puts up a façade and I don’t know if he truly is fine and relieved or if he is experiencing other feelings. I just hope that he is as fine as he appears to be. But I do worry about him and him telling me not to only powers up the worry even more.