Wednesday night my Grandpa died. I miss him.
Why is it we never realize what we have until it's gone? This isn't a new concept. We hear people say it all the time. Don't take people, places, times, etc... for granted. But for some reason we all do. I was able to tell him goodbye, hold his hand, and give him a kiss on the forehead... I would have much rather talked to him about the crops, weather, hell even something I normally don't care about; I'd do anything just to be able to talk to him again, and have him talk to me. It can't happen, though, and this saddens me. I miss him. Sure, a part of him will always stay with me for the rest of my life (thanks for the receding hairline Grandpa), but it's not the same. People older than you are supposed to be invincible. They'll never leave you. They'll always be there. But now my grandpa won't be, and I can't get over that feeling. I want him to be there for Christmas to hand me my money card; I want him to lead us in prayer before Thanksgiving dinner; I want him to yell at the grandkids and great-grandkids to stop jumping on the beds in basement. I just want him around. Maybe I should have been around more...
Here's Grandpa Hemann's Obit: GRANDPA HEMANN
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