Note: this was written Friday night after my parents told me my grandpa, Gordon Almond Hall, only had a couple days to live. Later that night, he passed away and is no longer in pain. Thank you to everyone who has already reached out to me, it means more than you know.
I’m sitting here in my bed, having cried more in the last hour than I probably have in the last six months.
I just got off the phone with my parents, who told me my grandpa’s health took a turn for the worse in the last 24 hours and he may only have a few days. And with those words my heart shattered into a million pieces.
It’s a reality that I hoped and wished wouldn’t happen. The possibility that my last visit to the hospital before I left to study abroad would be the last time I saw my dear grandpa. The man who taught me to tie flies as a toddler, who always bribed us into letting him pull out our wiggly teeth.
I can barely type this right now and each word hurts to write. Deep down, when I said goodbye to my grandpa at the hospital five days before I left, I knew it was the last time. I brought my water color painting I had done in high school for him to brighten up his hospital room. It was a painting of the Au Sable river, where he used to take fishing trips, with a fisherman wading in the river. It was always inspired by him, so I figured he should be the one to have it, especially when he needed some cheering up. I just refused to believe that that was my final gift to him until now. When I walked out of his room I said, “I’ll see you when I get back grandpa.” It was a see you later, not goodbye.
It was an “I can’t wait to tell you about all the adventures I have in Europe” not an “I’ll miss you forever.”
He went home from the hospital shortly after I left, so I figured he would be getting better while I was gone. And at least then, even though I knew there was a distinct possibility that was my last time with my grandpa, I already knew I would pay to fly back for possibly a last goodbye and his funeral to celebrate the wonderful man I got to call grandpa for 21 years. I wouldn’t care that I would be taking fewer trips abroad, I would pay to come home and then go back.
Now, though? There’s absolutely no chance that happens. Direct flights from Amsterdam to Detroit are nearly three grand, before luggage. Cheaper flights include at least two layovers in other European countries. And then I would have to be quarantined for two weeks when I got home. It’s just not even feasible at this point. And that’s what hurts the most. That I can’t be there to hold my family, to hug my dad after he loses his dad. To share our favorite memories and celebrate everything about him.
Dad, I wish I could be there with you right now. It truly hurts me to be so far away from you right now when you need your family close. I wish nothing more than to give you a hug. I love you so much.
Grandpa, there’s so much I wish I could say and talk to you about. I’m sorry you’ll never get to see me walk down the aisle, that you’ll never meet your future great grandchildren. I’m sorry that I’ll never get to come over and tell you about Europe. I’m sorry that my see you later was actually goodbye.
But thank you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for always coming to my games, my birthday parties, my award ceremonies–whatever it was, you were there for it. Thank you for always having a dog so I could get my puppy fix at your house and for letting me watch Sponge Bob even though my mom hated it. Thank you for teaching me about fly fishing and letting me come on the “boys” fishing trip. Thank you for calling me every year on my birthday and singing to me in the way only you could. Thank you for being the kind of man who adopts three sibling to ensure they stay together. Thank you for caring about our family so deeply that we always had get togethers several times each year and an organized family vacation with all 26 of us. Those are memories I’ll never forget. You and Grandma made the family environment everyone deserves and I couldn’t be more grateful.
I’ll miss you today and every day the rest of my life. You were the best grandpa I could have asked for. Eventually, I will smile every time I think of you instead of shedding some tears. I can’t wait to tell my kids about you one day. The man all of us grandkids adored. You created so much laughter and fun for everyone and I’m so lucky to have known you for 21 years.
a midwestern girl in a European world 