Today I stopped by the long term care centre where Papa spent the last 5 years of his life. In a couple of weeks it will be a year since he's been fine. I miss him so much. There is a huge hole in me from the loss of my grandfather. He meant so much so much to me. He believed in me, listened to me, taught me, cared for new, encouraged me. He was the roots in my life, the story of where I came from. Sometimes I feel so adrift without him. He was my anchor.
I listen to my son play the piano, improvising different ways to play the song. I know Papa would be so proud. He would've sat there and played along, embellishing and adding to the masterpiece, beaming proudly at his great-grandson. Papa would've loved to hear my son's thoughts about math, would've been fascinated by his conclusion that math is in everything. Would've encouraged him and discussed new ideas. My oldest son's descriptions of electrons and neutrons would've been welcomed. My daughter's love of singing. All these things are gifts from my grandfather. Reminders of him in my life. And they make me miss him even more.
I thank God that Papa's days of suffering with Lewy Body Dementia are over. But I miss him so much.
