So. My grandpa died. He's gone. It's weird. I've never known anyone that died. Not personally, anyway. It's just really crazy.
He had liver cancer. He told us about it, but was pretty optimistic about the whole thing. Then we found out his cancer was untreatable so he only had three months left. After planning to take off for a week in May to go to Texas and see him, everything changed. Monday night I found out that he wouldn't make it to May so my mom was flying to Texas by herself. But I really really wanted to go. So me and Mom planned to fly to Texas on today. Last night, we were at Target shopping for things we needed to take with us. When we were leaving Target, my mom gets a phone call from her brother. Grandpa had a stroke. His wife didn't think he would make it through the night, but my uncle thought he would, but he wouldn't remember us if he did wake up. So we still planned on leaving today and going to see him. Last night at about 10:30, my brother called me and said "Grandpa Peter passed away."
He died before I even got to see him. I haven't seen him in 10 years, he doesn't even know who I am. I just wanted to go and say hi. I wanted him to know who it is that he has been sending birthday cards to for 18 years. Thats what I most regret about this whole thing. I hate that he has no idea who I am.
But, in a way, I'm glad it's done. We don't have to worry about his health and if he made it through the night. He's not in pain anymore, which is the best thing I suppose.
I keep telling my mom that only good news can come now. Once you go through a period of bad news, there is always good news. I just wish the good news would happen sooner.
R.I.P Colonel Peter Barrett
