Once upon a hoopty...

My Grandpa died on Saturday morning. At that time, I was driving from the middle of nowhere back to Managua. I got to my email at 12:40ish and read about it in an email from my sister, but not before first reading about another missionary I know who finally went home after fighting brain cancer for a year. There are two deaths, both tragic, but one is also a victory. The missionary was a young man in his 30s who had a wife and no children. She is comforted to know that Jon went home to be in the hands of their father, but still will have to live through the pain of moving on. My grandpa was a funny fellow, and was living on borrowed time. He had lung cancer many years ago and had to have portions removed. This did not help when he came down with pneumonia the other day while in the hospital. They performed an emergency surgery to stop internal bleeding, it was successful, and then, for a reason that I do not yet know, his heart stopped on saturday morning. I can't help but feel that his death was not a victory, but was, instead, the end of the wasted extra time to live that he was given. I am thankful that he was there with my grandma as she suffered slowly and wasted away. I am glad he was there with our family when my uncle passed away. I am glad he was able to be a comfort to his third wife when her daughter committed suicide. I pray someone will be that same comfort for her now. I hate not going to the funeral and not being able to be with family. It makes it all seem so surreal. It makes me afraid to call, almost out of shame that i can't be there, and out of fear of coming to grips with it all. I loved him. I still do, i suppose. I am not devasted that he is gone, and maybe that is why I am afraid to call. I am ashamed that I can not be there with them and I am afraid that the main reason i didn't go is because I can't afford it. And then, when people offer to pay, I am even more ashamed, because that is not the reason either...or maybe I don't feel it would be appropriate to accept such charity. I would be ashamed of the debt. I am not overwrought with grief, and in fact, I don't even believe it yet, not really. But I feel like I should be. I am going to call, though. As much for my family as for me, and even for his memory. I'm sorry I didn't see you at thanksgiving, grandpa.