So yesterday was D and I's 3rd anniversary of the adoption being final. Well, today, is the 3rd anniversary of my grandad passing away. He'd been in a coma for a week or so, the end stages of Alzheimers, and I almost rescheduled the adoption hearing, but we had no idea when he would go, he could have gone another few days. And I really felt that with everything going on centering around my grandad, that D deserved "his" day.
The day that he died was interesting though. We were waiting on my uncle to get back in town to say goodbye. My grandparents have 5 kids; 4 girls and one boy. I had this feeling my grandad was waiting on my uncle to get there, and sure enough. We'd been at their house most of the day, and as soon as my uncle showed up, D and I left to go to my other aunt's house so D could get a nap. As we were headed to her house, it was right as a massive sandstorm blew through Dallas, and as we got to her house, we got the phone call that he had died. The sky was all orange and brown, it was surreal.
It's been 3 years and half the time I still feel like he's here. When I'm at my grandma's house on Sundays, sometimes it seems like he's going to come out of the bedroom at any moment. My dad and I have gotten closer since I got D, but my grandad was so much more like a dad to me growing up. He was a great man, quiet, solid, always there. I miss you, Grandad. We'll never forget you, but I so wish you and D had been able to get to know each other.
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