Grandpa, Take Me Back to Yesterday

I wrote this a few days back when I first learned that hospice had been called for my grandfather.  Last night, he passed peacefully with his family at his bedside.  


The other night, as I unloaded dishes to the after dinner sounds of the giggles and shrieks and gleeful existence of youth, dodging a stray bouncy ball here and there, my thoughts wandered elsewhere.  To a place where the innocence of youth was merely a memory.  A memory likely clouded by the reality of the present.

A cruel irony.  

Here in the kitchen, my children {his great grandchildren} run, their legs fueled by the blood of life.  Their spry frames propelled by young hearts. Carefree and energetic they are, just beginning to understand their arrival in the big wide world.

And there in his home, he rests.  He rests.  The life blood slowing.  The hospice nurse on call and his wife, his family, ever present at his side.   Preparing for a departure…from us.  But also, an arrival…home.

How beautifully tragic this life can be as it circles around with its eager and vibrant starts and its tired, tepid finishes.

In that moment, on that night, I saw two glimpses of the same big story.



Boisterous roughhousing.  

Quiet hand-holding.

Exuberance and joy.  

Heartbreak and hope.

Bookends of this family with so much story in between.

Today, I am giving thanks for his story.  And I am praying for comfort and strength for those who will carry that story in our hearts, ever adding the next chapter and verse.  

You are loved, Grandpa Ray.  And you will live on in the beating of our hearts and the unfolding of our stories.



  1. Nicolette Springer says:

    I love the way you wrote this piece. It painted such a vivid picture of the irony life presents us. I’m so sorry for your loss and hope that you continue to find peace in the fact that he is now home.

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