I still haven’t finished the second part of 12 weeks ago. I’ve been working on it, but it’s hard because *spoiler alert* my grandpa, the person who took me in when no one wanted me, bought me whatever I wanted, and was my world… died. On June 13, 2022. And it’s just been hard to write and tell the story about what happened on this day in the hospital or write about how miraculously we got to bring him home on hospice and my uncle, and I spent a night and day each with him before he passed.
it’s hard trying to tell that story because it keeps reminding me of how scared I was and how uncertain my future was. And how, even now, a few months later, I still find myself going back over memories and wondering if there was a point that had we picked up something was wrong, could we have fixed it?
The doctor said “colon twisting” is an end-of-life thing, so essentially the answer would be no, but I can’t help but wonder at times. He was cremated, and the hospice nurse took off his wedding band because it couldn’t go with him. she handed it to me, and I didn’t have anywhere to put it, so I started seeing if it would fit on any of my fingers.
Later on, after they took grandpa’s body, I asked my uncle what we wanted to do with grandpa’s ring. He said, “I think it’s in a good spot.” Then he spoke to my mom, and she agreed. It would keep me close to both my grandparents since it was the wedding band engraved with both of their initials and the date they wed.
This was supposed to be a post about my first birthday without grandpa, and it basically turned into a grief post, I guess. Well, I’m going to try and get some work done, but I’ll try to do another post soon.