My grandfather passed away somewhat suddenly this week.
Although his health was deteriorating, he was the kind of person that in my mind would always be there. Like he was superhuman.
My grandpa kind of was.
But life can be here and gone so quickly these days.
Between a husband on the mend and a business trip that couldn’t be rescheduled, I wasn’t able to attend the funeral this past weekend. I wasn’t able to say goodbye in person, to look at his face one last time and spend hours with my cousins reminiscing about camping trips.
I’ve never been an outwardly emotional person when it comes to grief, but being alone through his passing was especially difficult. I just couldn’t seem to find a way to say goodbye.
My first thought was to stop by the local racetrack on my way to the airport Friday morning, but it wasn’t open until the afternoon. My grandpa redefined Nascar fan. You could hear the cars zooming on his tv in the next town over. The living room would shudder when there was a crash. I was never ‘into’ racing, but I’ll always remember taking a tour of the Daytona racetrack with him. And how he wouldn’t pay $3,000 for us to ride in one of the race cars. How unreasonable was he? 🙂
Luckily, he was just as happy anywhere outdoors near a campground as he was near the track. And so, I ended up at Candlestick Point State Park, overlooking the bay for a bit.
While my relatives all said their goodbyes 3,000 miles away, I said mine right here.
It was so quiet and peaceful. A golden retriever splashed along the shoreline while fetch with his owner. Last night’s campfire remnants still smelled of smokey ash. Large pieces of driftwood had been arranged in a circle, begging for a night of stories and laughter.
It was almost the perfect place to say goodbye to someone who was so loved by so many.
Grandpa, you will always be in our hearts. And around our campfires.