Note to gpa

That’s how the entry read on my PDA to-do list today.

It’s short hand for “Send a card to Grandpa.” And it's been on my list for a couple of weeks.

Sadly, the window of time has closed on that action item.

Grandpa died yesterday.

I regret I didn’t send him that note. Was going to include the latest picture of our kids. Maybe have them write a heartfelt, hand-scrawled expression of their love, too.

Woulda. shoulda, coulda. As with most passings, the living are left holding regrets like this. “If only I’d . . ." seems to dominate the ethos of those who grieve.

Remarkably, I can easily extricate myself today from this feeling– usually located somewhere between self-pity and self-loathing. My guilt isn’t as heavy, as it's simply no match for the sense of joy that comes with reflecting on a life so well lived.

We last saw Grandpa in September. He was 98. And he looked dapper in his woven suspenders as he waited for us in the lobby of his nursing home.

“Heyyyyyyy” he exclaimed gravelly as the four of us walked through the open sliding glass door. (This particular greeting was a Grandpa signature.)

My son shook his great-grandfather’s hand. My daughter gave him a gentle hug around his bent legs; he marveled at her strawberry blonde hair. This was the first time he’d met our then four-year-old, Chloe.

We enjoyed dinner with him in the dining hall, then returned to his room to visit. There we sat comfortably, chatting the time away. With some prompting, he’d regale us with stories about the boys (my dad being one of his three) and about life in California back in the 1930s and 40s. All I wanted to do was to listen, to absorb him. I was quite cognizant that this was a moment in time.

Yet moments pass. And as our time on this evening with Grandpa was nearing an end, we snapped some pictures to capture this wonderful, multi-generational occasion.

My favorite is the one posted here. I took it. But I forgot to take the self-timer off. So as I tried to hold the camera and the kids’ poses steady while the 15-second-timer ticked away, both the kids – and Grandpa – began laughing infectiously at my mistake. It was a total smile.

I cherish this image of our kids with their great-grandfather. And while we’ll never forget the time we spent together on this Monday night, we knew that, someday, these images would have to substitute for time spent with this true gentle man, this “radiant soul”.

And so it is that this must substitute for my Note to gpa.