Member-only story
First My Dad Died and Now My Grandpa Has Too
When will the loss stop?
Death has shrouded me like a blanket that won’t come off. Don’t come close for the reaper may follow.
It took my Dad on June 25th, and now my Grandpa on September 14th. Who’s next?
I’m now the highest branch in my section of the family tree. It was only a few months ago when both of my forefathers were alive and able to give guidance and perspective on life. Now it’s left to me.
When my Dad died far too young at age 65 this past June, what struck me most was the finality of life. The suddenness. Death had never directly impacted me with someone I loved.
It immediately taught me to cherish every single day. Every moment. To do only what was meaningful. To spend time only with people who add positivity and love.
My dad’s death was even more traumatic because I witnessed it. I literally watched his final breath, something I had never witnessed in my life with anyone. It was an experience I was still processing when I heard that my Grandpa had passed away at age 95.
Not even three months had passed since my Dad died.
