Together again in Heaven. My Grandpa, my Great Grandpa and my Uncle. Three generations of McGregors.
Grandpa and I last Christmas
Grandma and Grandpa ❤
I'm really not good about opening up. Jordan can vouch for me on that. With that being said, when I'm sad, overwhelmed or even excited, I write. I wrote this a week ago and have been going back and forth on whether or not to keep it to myself or to share it. I decided, for the sake of trying to be more open, I'll share. Not only that, my Grandpa was an amazing man and deserves to live on through our stories and memories of him.
On Wednesday February 8th, I got a call from my Mom that my Grandpa was being rushed to the hospital. My Grandma went in to wake him that morning and he wouldn't wake up. From there, the hospital sent him to Hospice. Hospice then told us that he did have much longer with us.
I waited all day to hear...well...anything. Every time my phone rang, my stomach sank.
That afternoon, I got a chance to talk to him. He couldn't respond but I was able to tell him I love him and that was more than I could have asked for in that moment.
Later in the day; still waiting. Phone rings. Same news. The day went on and on like this.
Finally, Jordan got home and I decided to start packing for the worst. I knew that we would be heading up to Iowa shortly, I just didn't know when. Either way, I wanted to be prepared to hop in the car and get to my family and my Grandma as soon as possible.
There was only one problem...Jordan was scheduled for surgery the next day. Nothing big, but we couldn't reschedule and it would definitely keep him down and out all day.
Regardless, we prepared.
My Mom, who was originally going to help me with Jordan and Ellie was already half way up to Iowa. So I called my best friend...my sister.
She helped me line up a place for Josie, who got to stay with her best doggie friend, Cooper (my sister's boyfriends dog) and she drove an hour and a half to meet me in Harrison to help me with Eloise during Jordan's surgery.
Thursday morning rolled around. No new news, but I did get to talk to him again and tell him I love him one last time. Jordan and I then packed up the car, Josie and Eloise and made the hour long trek to Harrison.
The minute we hit Harrison, my phone rang. My stomach sank. My eyes started to tear up. I knew it was the call I'd been dreading.
It was.
My sweet Grandpa was gone. The man who let me think I was sneaking Oreo's from him as a kid. The man who would hug me with the biggest smile when he saw me. The man who would get our entire family of 27 together every year no matter the cost, was gone. I'd never see him again, talk to him again, hug him again...and just typing that was a big punch to the gut.
We stayed put to let Jordan rest that day. First thing Friday morning, my sister, brother, Jordan, Eloise and I packed the car and made the 7 hour trip to Iowa.
It was unreal. I kept looking for him only to remember he wasn't there and in those short moments of searching, I had forgotten the empty feeling I'd been feeling for two days. Although, the feeling always came back like 20 bullets.
I may have felt broken, but I stayed strong. Not only was my husband still on some heavy duty pain killers from surgery and I had a 3 month old to take care of, but because I knew that what I was feeling wasn't close to what my Mom, Aunts and especially my Grandma was feeling.
During the funeral, I got a chance to talk to a woman who used to work for my Grandpa. Years ago, she had a son that was born with health problems. He had over 20 surgeries done and she said she was out for a total of 5 months in two years because of that. Her son ended up passing away after his 2nd birthday but she said the one thing that always stuck with her was sitting in that hospital and meeting all the families who had lost their jobs because they had missed so much time from work. She said she was so thankful for my Grandpa who not only allowed her to miss work when she needed to and always held her job for her but helped raise over $40,000 to help her with medical expenses. My Grandpa did amazingly kind things throughout his life that no one ever knew about and that is a special kind of person. A person who does kind things for others without expecting anything in return and no urge to share their good deed with the world is an incredible person. The world needs more people like that.
I won't keep going on. Instead I'll leave you with the song that was played at my Grandpa's funeral. This song was such a perfect choice, you would think he picked it out himself.
My Grandpa loved Frank Sinatra. I love Frank Sinatra. When I heard this song, it took me back to 5 years ago when I was driving my Grandma and Grandpa to Gull Lake for our family vacation. While my Grandma took a nap in the back seat, my Grandpa and I turned on Frank Sinatra and we listened to 'Ol Blue Eyes together.
Until I see you again, Grandpa. I love you.
