Orange Grandpa

No, you didn't read that wrong, I said "Orange Grandpa". For as long as I can remember, I have referred to my grandparents as "Orange" (my dad's side) and "Brown" (my mom's side). I came up with this around the age of three when I noticed the colors my grandpas looked like in the shade. Basically, my brown grandpa who has a deep olive skin tone, has a fabulous tan year round, so his name was easier for my family to understand. Now... orange? That's a bit harder for me to explain, but it made perfect sense to my three year old self, and, well, it has just stuck ever since.

So my orange grandpa had been sick for the past couple months and he passed away early this morning. I feel like I am in a dream. Although he had been having a terrible time trying to breathe and move from place to place for a while now, he took such a fast turn for the worst yesterday, and I never thought this would have happened so fast.

My mom called me at work yesterday to tell me he was being moved from the hospital to hospice... never a good sign. She told me that I could see him that evening, but I could probably wait until tomorrow if it would be easier. It was a weirdest feeling but I just knew that I needed to leave work immediately and go see him. I am so thankful I did, because if I had left any later, I would have missed my last words with him.

It's really hard to see someone go from a lively, active person to someone that relies on help to do everything. Seeing my grandpa yesterday was nothing short of a shock. He looked so tiny and helpless and, if you know my grandpa, you would know how jarring it is for him to be silent. My grandpa loved to talk so much that he would talk about anything... EVERYTHING just to keep a conversation going! The man was a social butterfly : )

I sat next to him and I could barely hear him as he spoke. So much of what he said was mumbled and out of context due to weakness and mass quantities of medication, but, from what I could hear, he was being so loving and sweet. I heard him say "My wonderful, wonderful family" and when I made sure he knew I was there, his eyes lit up and he nuzzled me when I hugged him. And when my dad said, "Isn't your granddaughter beautiful?" my grandpa looked at me, the corners of his mouth went up, and in the weakest and sweetest voice he said, "yes". After I talked to him for a while, he looked at me and asked, "How's work?" and I couldn't help but laugh. Even in his state, my grandpa couldn't resist conversation and, for those of you that know my work situation, this question is even funnier! I laughed and told him the truth. My un-sugarcoated yet light-hearted answer made a smile on his face so big that it moved me to tears. I saw the real him in that moment, and I was so thankful. He was my grandpa in that moment.

We played some classical music for him and just stayed by his side until he fell asleep. I just never expected that that would be my last moment with him. It blows my mind that he was still working and coming to my parent's house for Sunday dinners only a couple of months ago. Life can change so fast.

But let me tell you a little bit about my grandpa.

This was a man that collected the weirdest things... figurines of trolls, squirrels, and friendly-looking monsters. A man that gave the worst presents... and I mean that in an endearing way. He once gave me a frog statue made of mulch- hahahaha. He was someone who loved reading and took me to the library or read me a book nearly every time I saw him growing up. He printed out all of his e-mails, and kept framed quotations that he typed on his type-writer all over his house and frequently gave them as gifts. He always ate dessert and always loved talking to his granddaughters. He played the organ and went to church, and loved cafeteria-style restaurants. He loved my grandma... a lot. He was never the same after she died when I was 12. I have memories of sleeping on his bedroom floor when I would spend the night at his house when I was little, and he would always wake me up when he did leg exercises in his bed and did these "hee hee ho ho" breathing techniques... I don't know how my grandma slept through them! He adored his cats Chelsea and Davey and I am so thankful he had them as company. He was the king of greeting cards and brought bags of Hersey's miniatures and boxes of Russel Stovers almost every time he visited. He loved spending time with his family and he never let us forget that.

He was a great grandpa and he really loved me.

I'll miss you, Grandpa.