It still doesn’t seem fair. It doesn’t seem fair that my kids won’t hear him make strange cat-like noises when he’s lying on the couch on the edges of sleep but still trying to interact with his grandchildren. It doesn’t seem fair that they’ll grow up and not remember how much joy they brought to his life. It doesn’t seem fair that he won’t give them any more pony rides. It doesn’t seem fair that “Red Bowler” and “Lucky Swimmer” won’t be heard from his lips anymore.

It doesn’t seem fair that other children still get to sit on their Grandpa’s knees. It was at the baby dedication on Saturday that the unfairness hit me once again. Jo’s dad got up to read a poem – “Grandpa Grumps” – about how delightful it is to become a Grandpa. Of course, my eyes turned into watering holes as they still have a tendency of doing when I remember that he’s gone. I miss him for MY sake, but I think I miss him even more for my KIDS’ sake. At least my memories of him are well formed and will always be with me. Their memories of him are already fading. They won’t get to know how wise he was, or get a chance to have an adult perception of him.

While the poem was being read, and my eyes were filling with tears, I looked back to see if I could catch Cynthia’s eyes. I was sure her eyes were welling up too. It’s even more unfair for her. She’ll bring a baby (or two or three) into the world, and won’t even get to see her baby in his arms. She won’t get to see the grin on his face or the sparkle in his eye. Her child won’t get a Grandpa nick-name.

It’s just not fair. Grandpas are supposed to live forever.

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