I still listen to the voicemails, trying to ensure I do not forget his voice. I stare at the picture on my nightstand trying to ensure I do not forget his face. Most often, I try not to think about how I will have to go the rest of my life without seeing him again, but sometimes that thought creeps back into my mind unexpectedly and my heart breaks all over again.

He adored his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, my grandfather. The smile that appeared on his face as we walked in the door was invaluable. Nothing was more important to him than the wellbeing of his family.

Having Polio at a young age, the long-term effects became a big obstacle. However, having to use leg braces and canes for a few years never stopped him from doing anything he could to be with his family. His heart was so full of love that it was impossible not to smile when in his presence. He was, and still is, by far, my favorite person in the universe.

The phone calls were my favorite. I could always expect a Sunday night phone call from him just checking up on me. Being away in Oswego for my first year of college was very tough and he knew that. He worried about me a lot, more than I wish he did. He gave me the comfort of knowing that when I was upset or lonely, I always had home.

However, sometimes I would be foolish and not answer. I always felt guilty for not answering his phone calls, all he wanted to do was reach out to his granddaughter who was struggling. My voicemail box was piling up with messages from him, but I never deleted a single one. They all said relatively the something, saying whom it was, that he just wanted to check up on me, and they all ended with a simple phrase, “Love you, bye now.”

I tried to be there more when I transferred schools to be home, but unfortunately, my priorities were quite screwed up. I spent most of my time working and doing school work than trying to make time for my family. I never thought I would have to worry about them not being there, at least for a while. My time with him was spaced far apart, even though I only lived fifteen minutes away. But during the time we did spend together, the smiles on our faces never faded. He didn’t mind that I wasn’t around too much because he cherished any moment; he understood why I couldn’t be there so he tried to make the most of it. I know how much I was loved.

Then, it happened. I got the phone call that would crumble my world, the phone call that took my breath away and stabbed a thousand knives all over my body, “Grampy is in the hospital, he isn’t doing so well.”

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. I had no idea how to handle this. My parents, my aunts, my uncles, they were all in Michigan for a wedding which left my grandmother, my cousin, my brother, and myself alone.

I don’t think I’ve ever driven so fast in my life. I felt as if the drive to the hospital took ten hours when it only took twenty minutes. My mind was racing and it was blank all at the same time, I couldn’t process anything that was going on, I couldn’t even cry.

When I saw him, I knew this was it. I knew it wouldn’t be too long before he was out of my life and that crushed me. I sat with him, holding his hand and refusing to let go. This man had been my rock for nearly twenty years, how was I supposed to let go of him now? It wasn’t fair, I wasn’t ready for this. I wanted him around for the most selfish reasons, because I wasn’t ready to live a life where he wasn’t a part of it. I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing he would never see me graduate from college or see me get married. He would never hold my child like he had held my nieces. I wanted him to be there for all of that, I needed him to.

When my grandmother said he had previously expressed his desire not to be treated, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and the tears began to flood out of my eyes. I immediately excused myself called the rest of my family, who was rushing back from Michigan, a thirteen-hour drive. I didn’t think they would make it in time. Thirteen hours is a long time and my grandfather had been unconscious since before I had even gotten there. I did not have high hopes the rest of my family would be able to see him and be there for him. His children, my father and two aunts wouldn’t get their chance to say good-bye. This broke my heart the most.

But he held on. It was the longest thirteen hours of my life, just praying he would hold on long enough for them to get back. As thirteen drew to an end, my nerves grew more. When they finally walked in, the relief I felt was indescribable. The tears welled up once again and I could breathe. I let go if his hand for the first time in thirteen hours when it was time for his children to be with him and the rest of the family left.

I wasn’t shocked the next morning when my mother told me he had passed away not long after I had left the hospital, no more than a half an hour. I felt comfort knowing that the people who loved him the most, hoping he knew we were all there, surrounded him.

In the midst of my grief, I had stumbled upon my voicemail box. Something I hadn’t checked in months. In the voicemail box were all the voicemails from him I had never deleted, the voicemails I had honestly forgotten existed. I was nervous to play them, not sure of how I would react. I spent a few minutes staring at the screen in awe of what I had found before choosing one to listen to. The familiar voice began to speak and I began to cry. I never thought I would ever hear his voice again. The short, ten-second voicemail gave me the comfort I hadn’t felt since he had been alive. It is hard, every day, to know he is not here. But that is life. We have to learn to live with the obstacles thrown at us. It never gets easier to deal with, it just becomes accepted.

There is one phrase I take the most comfort in, one that lets me know he is still my rock, the phrase I repeated back to him during those thirteen grueling hours, “Love you, bye now.”