The Bug was named after my grandfather. Ten days after the Bug entered the world, my grandfather passed away. He was 85 years old, and poor health had diminished his life to a point where his former spunky spirit was gone. The picture above was the last picture I ever took of him. It was at Christmas, and even then he was only a shell of his former self.
We knew a couple of days before he passed away that his time remaining would be very short lived. At that point, I'm fairly certain he was not aware of anyone visiting him. However, it allowed us to say goodbye. No matter how hard it is to say goodbye, it is a blessing when that opportunity is granted.
I was just a week postpartem when I went to visit him, knowing it would be the very last time I saw him alive. A ball of harmones and emotions, I cried through much of the visit, and wasn't able to really get any words out. However I was able to kiss him and tell him I loved him. During that visit, I couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he never met his namesake. He was shown a picture of the Bug, but no one is sure that he was cognizant enough to really understand what had taken place just the week before. Of my three children, only the Biscuit will remember him, and those memories will only be bits and pieces.
When I found out he was gone, I felt comforted that he was finally at peace. I pictured him reunited with my grandmother, and thought about the legacy he leaves behind. Four children, seven grandchildren, four great-grandchildren. A life very well lived.
|The Biscuit and my grandfather last Christmas|
|Me and my grandfather|
|The Biscuit, never stingy with hugs|