It's been a little over a month since I lost my Grandpa. I had no idea it would be this hard to lose him. There has been a lot of tears shed, some anger, lots of love, etc. Let me start off by saying how honored I was to be his granddaughter. I never doubted if I was loved. He called me several times a week to tell me how much he loved me, and usually ended up getting emotional and hanging up. I am so blessed that I was able to care for him full time in his last months. We have a bond that few can understand. We spent all day, every day together; serving one another. Although sometimes physically taxing, it was always a pleasure serving him. I am so glad that his passing went quickly. He didn't suffer. His last breaths were spent holding my moms hand with one hand, and holding mine with the other. I think that's how he wanted it. Quiet. Peaceful. Surrounded by love. Luckily, everyone was able to say goodbye several days earlier when he was lucid. He laughed, talked, and joked with all the great grandkids. He was so delightful. I loved the way he always made me feel. I feel such a void without him here. I walk to his room expecting to see him there asking me to fix the darn tv remote again. I love that my children, especially Piper, were so close to him. Pippi spent countless hours with him, helping him adjust his bed, giving him his meds, and just snuggling together in his bed. The day after he passed, she came up to me and said, "Grandpa Payne is walking now up in heaven, right?" Yep, he finally is. I am glad he is with our Heavenly Father and with relatives who have passed. Honestly, I miss him like crazy, but I hope that hurt goes away.
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