This September I lost my Grandpa.

I know it is a normal rite of passage to lose a grandparent, but the pain of this lingers. He was my last one. He was 96 when he died. I’m so lucky to have had him all that time. I know all these things, and I know he was more or less ready to go. He had been put in hospice in April, but the exact reason that he was getting sicker and less able to do things for himself remained a bit of a mystery.

I said goodbye more times than I can recount, because for nearly 6 months we just didn’t know what the next day might hold. It was a torturous process and while I’m thankful my aunt was able to care for him during that time, it was also a very challenging time for a million other reasons.

When he died, nobody told me. Nobody called. My sister finally got ahold of me with a cryptic text late that day and told me, but she assumed someone else had told me first. As it turns out, I was the last person in the family to find out. But there was enough time while he was declining for one aunt to call the other aunt and have her fly from Florida to be with him. I’m glad they were both there with him, but I was tremendously hurt and sad. I don’t know if that was something he wanted, or if it was my Aunts’ decision, but it was a disappointment. Death moves fast and unpredictably. I know this from my dad’s death. I’m trying to view it through that lens. I just wish I’d had another final chance to say goodbye, given our closeness.

I have been slow to process all of it, really. Having lost my dad almost 5 years ago, my Grandpa remained such a prominent figure in my life. In some ways, where my dad and I often didn’t connect well, my Grandpa and I did. He rounded out gaps where I sometimes felt frustrated with my dad, and gave me leadership and guidance that I often really needed and wanted. He made me feel so seen. He and I spoke on the phone a few times a week typically. He was so much more than a Grandpa, he was a superb friend. He paid attention to me in a way few people do. He knew what I was up to, who my friends were, what my challenges were, how I thought about politics and people, and so much more. I tried to offer him the same. I called him to chat, to hear his perspectives, and to ask him questions about how to approach things I was struggling with. It hurts my heart to not have him around anymore, and because when he passed I didn’t get to say a last goodbye, I don’t have a good sense of closure on it. Sometimes still want to call him. Then have to recollect the fact that he is not with us anymore.

Upon returning from his memorial weekend in Milwaukee, I learned that my boss had taken a new job and was leaving. I was unexpectedly thrown into a more prominent leadership role in my organization, and as of yesterday, I was hired formally into that role. It felt like the hand of my Grandpa, with a lifetime of hard work and leadership behind him, putting tasks and work ahead of me to keep my mind busy and to keep me from dwelling on sad things. I wish he had been here to help talk me through my interview preparation and to ask me questions about the work, like he used to do. I miss his thoughtful way of saying things like, “In other words” as he would explain a concept from a book or an idea. I miss his calm, his gravitas, and his care. I am so lucky to have had him and so sad to have lost him.