It was the day before my ninth birthday; Aug. 19, 2004. My family and I were enjoying the last few days of our summer vacation at Seneca Lake, New York. Dinner was just put on the stove when my dad got a phone call from my grandmother. The five words she said on the phone forever changed my life.
At that time, I had no clue what she said on the phone. All I knew was that something was wrong. We ended up completely aborting the dinner that was more than halfway made. We were told to throw everything in the car, and we'll figure out whose stuff is whose when we get home. We barely even cleaned the house because we were in such a hurry.
There was a five hour drive ahead of us. I still remember this was the one and only time any food was allowed in the car. We were in such a hurry we couldn't eat food. Instead, we had to eat McDonald's in the car.
We were about halfway home when I realized why were in such a hurry. A pit formed in the bottom of my stomach and I instantly became nauseous. Years later, I finally learned what my grandmother said on that night.
"Dad's not doing so well."
My grandfather had been battling cancer for about two years at that point. All I really can remember is visiting him in the hospital on multiple occasions. I had grown up with my grandparents. I was lucky enough to have two full-time working parents, so I was able to see my grandparents almost every day. I just remember my grandmother, Oma, and I standing in the kitchen, making my grandfather, Opa, his special drink.
It is both a blessing and a curse, not knowing how sick he really was. I took for granted all our time spent together; like the last time I would ever see him. We were about to drive up to the lake, and we stopped at Oma and Opa's house to say goodbye. Opa was sitting in his chair in the living room. I hopped up on his lap, and remember joking about how scratchy his face was getting. I gave him a big hug and said something on the lines of "I'll see you next week. I love you!"
Fast forward five days or so into the future. We're all but 15 minutes from home. My two sisters and mom, who were asleep for the latter half of the drive, had woken up a few minutes before. My older sister looked at the clock, which read 11:59. She jokingly nudged me, and at midnight, screamed "happy birthday."
When we got home, nothing more seemed to happen. I was told to go to bed and that we'll celebrate my birthday in the morning. I thought nothing more of the pit in my stomach. I thought if we didn't stop at Oma and Opa's, then he couldn't have been too bad. I drifted off into sleep.
That morning my mom woke me up and put my little sister at the foot of the bed. My mom said she had something to tell us. "Opa died early this morning."
The first thoughts that rushed through my head was she was making some sort of sick joke. She had to say it multiple times for me to fully grasp the concept. The hours after I found out are a complete blur to me. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to remember the rest of my day.
I was having a lot of problems with friends the previous school year. I would take to bus to his house every day after school and, no matter how sick he may have been feeling, he would sit with me, talk to me, or play games with me. He hid being sick so well.
My biggest regret in life was not being there for my grandfather when he died. I will forever have this empty feeling inside me. I will always wonder what thoughts may have been going through his head. Was he upset I wasn't there; did he think I didn't love him as much as I did? These terrible thoughts come back to me all the time.
It seems that the older I get, the worse I feel. I'll have dreams about him when he was still alive and wake up crying. I'll be sitting in class or watching TV or something random like that, and feel terrible about myself for not being there for him when he needed me. He was always there for me when I needed him.
I think now that he never got to see my graduate high school. He'll never get to see my graduate college or start my career. He'll never see me get married or the family I will start.
To anyone who has been unfortunate enough to have lost a loved one, I'm sure you have some variation of this story. Whether it be a grandparent, parent, cousin, or sibling, it seems that the story is always slightly similar. And to anyone who has been unfortunate enough to have lost a loved one without being able to say goodbye, there will always be that empty feeling. There will always be the question if he/she knew how much they meant to you.
For me, the worst feeling is knowing I was two minutes away, sound asleep in my bed and dreaming of what birthday presents I would get in the morning while my grandfather took his last breath.