(no subject)

My grandpa passed away this morning...at 3 am. He had very advanced Alzheimer. But he died peacefully in his sleep, although in the hospital. We had to hospitalize him because he was dehydrated.

It still feels unreal. Like a really bad joke on my whole family. No way can my grandpa be dead, you know? For all we said we knew this would happen, no one is ever really prepared for such a thing. Specially not my grandfather.

He was a man like no other, he taught me, my family soooooo much. But I know he's better now. He lived his full life dedicated to God, and never strayed from his path for anything. So I know, I *know* he's with God right now, watching over us. And that makes me wanna cry all over again. And I don't know if they're sad tears or happy tears.

For all that my heart and soul tell me he's better now, that's he's not trapped in the body that had become his prison, I am but a mere mortal who needs physical confirmation of a person's (not God's) existence. I need him whole and aware and alive with me. Give me all the memories I don't have. One of the curses of being the youngest in the family. I barely remember my first 4 years of age, and the last 5-6 years grandpa was already living with Alzheimer and loosing more and more of himself. I only have 9 years of memories, and while that seems like a lot, is not nearly as much as my brother and sisters who have over 15 years and more of memories of him well. And not like Mom who has over 30, Dad who had him all his life and Grandma who's would have been married to him for 61 years this December.

And now, and even though it's for the best, Grandma wants to move to an apartment, leave the house. And we would probably move too... to live close to her, like we do now.

I gotta go...