My grandfather passed last Tuesday evening in Ontario. My brothers and I got the call late Tuesday night and weren't able to get on a flight until early Thursday morning. The next few days were physically exhausting and emotionally draining as we went through the business of a wake, funeral, burial and various family gatherings. I arrived home around 1am Saturday night and other than a couple hours to clean the kitchen and grocery shop, I've been in bed. The exhaustion that Im feeling is more than trying to catch up on missed sleep or the fatigue that comes from travelling. Im trying to get back to normal, but it's slow going.
Jason's been wonderful and the kids have been surprisingly good. I don't have to go back to work until tomorrow, which is really good because I'd be useless anyway. Even the thought of having to pick up a skating helmet for Micah tonight seems so overwhelming.
I wasn't super close to my grandfather. We've lived in different provinces for over 8 years and I only visited him once during that time. Growing up though, he only lived a few streets away and I saw him nearly every day. He is the person I think of when I hear the words grandpa or grandfather or papa, like I used to call him. I named my son after him. He meant a lot to me, even though I really didn't know very much about his final years. He will be missed.