The last time

I had a good visit with my Grandpa yesterday. We told him about the baby, and told him about the two names we have picked out. He got his tough Grandpa face on and said "I'll tell you what the baby's name is when it's born." Sadly, he won't be around for that, but it's his way of showing interest. The patriarch to the end.

The thing I was most upset about is now that he has no physical hope left and the end is near, he is allowing a therapist to come in and "help him get stronger." It's like he is grasping for straws and last efforts to make it a little while longer, but he is already dying inside.

The best part of the day was that he did get up from his recliner and ate watermelon at the table with us. That's the Grandpa I want to remember, eating fruit purchased off the side of the road.

It's not often that you know that this is the last time. So, I just told him often that I love him, and I sat and held his hand.

It was a gift.