My Grandpa had been sick for a while, like all winter. Not eating, no energy, not getting up. He was diagnosed with lung cancer, then they changed that to Tuberculosis. It was all so sad. His cancer diagnosis was a catalyst with me getting help for my depression. Had I not gotten help, I probably would have been a HUGE mess. My Grandpa was one of my very favoritest people in the whole world.
My sister, Marianne and I visited my Grandpa on July 3rd, and honestly, I thought I would see him again, like I thought he could get treated for the TB. Maybe, had he not been sick so long... We all had to end up getting tested for TB as well.
I feel like my Grandpa's funeral left a little to be desired. Like it didn't honor him enough for the good person that he was. After my mom's funeral I felt like everything that I would have wanted said was said, but my Grandpa's funeral left me a little empty. That made me kind of sad too. I think the moment I was most sad at his funeral was when some random person was singing one of my Grandpa's favorite songs (and singing it poorly), and a song he sang often, I was probably rolling my eyes to myself at the bad singing, when my great uncle (his brother) who was in front of, or behind me, started singing it softly. He had a beautiful voice and sounded a little like my Grandpa, and I was so sad knowing I wouldn't be able to sit by Grandpa and listen to play his guitar and sing. I just love my Grandpa.
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