My grandpa died

I got an email from my dad late this afternoon, telling me that my grandpa had suddenly taken a turn for the worse (he's had heart problems, among other health issues, for quite a while now. In fact, both he and my grandma have been in a nursing home for the past several months). Dad was going to go down there in the morning. That's all the email said. That's all he KNEW at the time.

Well, unbeknownst to any of us, at the time my dad sent that email, Grandpa had already passed. The home, apparently, only had Dad's cell and home numbers--not his work one. My dad works at a large factory, and he doesn't get cell phone reception while he's inside. Grandpa died this afternoon, but Dad didn't get the message till he left work this evening (he works 2nd shift). He emailed me (yes, emailed, but if you know my dad you won't find that surprising at all) right after he found out, around 10 tonight. My grandma has very advanced Alzheimer's and, by this evening, she had already forgotten that he was gone. Dad said he doesn't even know if they're going to have a funeral, per se--they might just have a short graveside ceremony. (Again, you'd have to know Dad to understand this. But really, all Grandpa had left was Dad, Grandma, two other sons and then Katey and I. He was always kind of a mean old man, but from what Dad tells me, that has gotten significantly worse as he's gotten older and sicker, to the point where he was just downright heartless and cruel.)

And how am *I*? Guilt-ridden, I guess. I haven't seen them in--well, longer than I care to even admit. 10 years, maybe. It was always so hard, with them being in FL and me being Michigan, and I never had the time (vacation time, that is) or money to go see them. It's ironic that I was going to move down to Florida in a week; I was actually going to visit them my first full weekend in Florida, which would have been two weeks from now. I knew I didn't have a lot of time left and I wanted to take full advantage of being able to finally do so. But I waited too long and now it's too late.

So that's where I am, I guess. Not sad in the traditional sense, because I certainly wasn't close to him, but I definitely feel like the world's most uncaring granddaughter. I should have written more. I should have called. I should have gone down there. And I didn't. I find myself just kind of aimlessly wandering around the house, actually. I feel shell-shocked. This is the first grandparent I've lost; the first close relative, in fact. So yes, I've been very lucky, but it's also left me unprepared for how it feels or what to do. It just happened so fast. He was fine (well, as fine as he could could be, considering his health problems) and then he was gone. The nursing home still isn't even exactly sure WHAT happened. His blood pressure just started dropping and he died before they could really even do anything.

Not to mention, of course, the move. I'm starting to wonder if God's trying to give me a sign that I SHOULDN'T go. This morning, I took my car into the shop for a pre-trip inspection; I needed to make sure my little Escort could withstand the drive. They told me that I needed almost $900 worth of work just for my car to physically be able to get down there. (And I believe them, too, because these are all things I've heard about from other mechanics when I've had other recent work done on my car. Apparently, things like worn brake pads--my front pads are now operating at 5%, which they say is bad ;) --and a loose tie rod are things that you REALLY have to address, eventually. "Ignoring them and hoping they go away" are not really effective strategies in this case. And those are just TWO of the things on their list.) So needless to say, THAT unexpected cost almost derailed my move right there, until I was able to obtain temporary financing from my other grandparents. And then, later that same day, I lose my grandpa--and now, of course, Dad probably won't be able to help me move next weekend as planned. So now I have no idea how to get my stuff down there. I may have to go down there with just my clothes, after all (and, of course, Nikki's Christmas present, my "bathroom in a box." Is God putting obstacles in my way as a way of telling me that this isn't the right move (literally) for me? And how do I know?

Please pray for my grandma and Dad. Dad doesn't show a lot of emotion (to say the least) but I know that this is tearing him up inside. When I finally talked to him this evening, I asked how he was doing. He paused and said, "Well, right now I'm okay, because I'm so busy planning everything. But in a few days, I probably won't be."

And for my dad, that's saying a LOT.