My grandfather passed away today.
He had been fighting leukemia bravely for two years. And when I say bravely, I mean this man fought tooth and nail to stay alive. He was on time to every doctor’s appointment, took meticulous notes (even the doctor used his notes because they were that exact), and made his own graphs with his blood counts, number of blood transfusions and how his chemotherapy was going. This man was strong as an ox. To say my grandfather, Ta as we called him, was a fighter is an understatement. He wanted to live and he tried, I know how hard he tried.
This man raised me up until I was about 5. Ta took me to the Zoo daily, even got a membership to the museum so he could take me whenever I wanted. When I told him I wanted to be an archaeologist he just smiled and told me he knew those trips were worth something.
I will completely and wholeheartedly always love Ta. I said goodbye to him and was still in the room when the doctors shut off all the machines all called it. I got at the hospital around 1 pm and stayed to at least 7. I told him how much I loved him, I cried with all my family, and then let go when to people from the funeral home came to take him.
I don’t believe in heavan, don’t have any religious affiliation whatsoever despite my intense Christian family. Abi and my Aunt Judy were talking about how they couldn’t understand how someone without religion could go through his. I can though, I know I will. Just because I don’t believe in God, doesn’t mean Ta doesn’t deserve one.