My corner of Heaven...

My grandpa, Dean Henry Nerdig, passed away July 8th after living 6 months without his beloved bride of 62 years. I wanted to share a few sweet stories about dealing with his passing.

I called Granpda the Friday he decided to move from the hospital to Hospice. We started our conversation as usual, with him asking what was going on here, how the kids were, how David was, and lastly, how I was. Finally getting to ask him how he was, he simply said, "Well kid, this is it." I asked if he was ready, and he said he was. He asked if I was ready, and I sadly told him that I didn't think I'd ever really be ready for him to go, but that if it was what he wanted then, yes, I was ready. He quieted me, saying that I'd always been loyal, a good granddaughter. He said we'd been honest with each other and that we both knew how the other felt. And, while he was right, I could feel my heart screaming at my head, "TELL HIM AGAIN! Say it now. There's still time." That desperation of sharing my real emotions with him well up as strongly today, and from what I'm told, I expect they always will. I know that I could have told him I loved him until the end of my time, and it still wouldn't have been enough.

Later, after hanging up the phone with him, not knowing how many more times I'd have to tell him how much I love him, tears streaming down my face, my sweet Sohl son asked what was wrong. I said I was sad, and he asked why. "Grandpa Dean's going to heaven soon." "Don't be sad, Mom. He gets to be with Jesus. Mom, how will Grandpa Dean get there? Will he drive there?"

"No, you can't drive there, Sweetheart."
"Will he fly in an airplane?"
"No, you can't fly there in an airplane."
"Why Mom?"
"'Cause that's not how it works, Peanut."
"I know Mom! Grandpa Dean will open his arms and fly the whole way there."

A friend of mine would call this a God wink. Whatever it's called, it was the comfort I needed at just that moment. I pulled that sweet boy into my lap and cuddled him until his little 3 and 1/2-year-old self demanded I stop "stucking" him.

During the next week, Grandpa slowly faded away. I felt I was running out of time, but too out of ways to say goodbye to him. Though I talked with him each day, I felt I had to make the most of the two mintues I had of his time, and wasting them continually saying a tearful goodbye wasn't worth the emotional strain it caused both of us. I called a friend who lost her father a little over a year ago. She said that at the end of her father's time on earth, she started to tell him specifically why she loved him. Taking her advice the next time I called Grandpa, I told him that I admired his devotion to family, the strength of his marriage to Grandma, and wanted to have a life that reflected his.

Had I known, had I realized when Grandma died what a relief it would be to share with her my specific reasons for love, what I'd really miss... and then my mind stops in response to her sharp reprimand in my head. She says to me that I couldn't know then. She knew, and knows now, what I feel.

And now that I've seen them in a vision together, reunited, smiling with glorious happiness, my tears of sadness for my loss are mixed with tears of joy for their celebration in Heaven. Someday I'll join them. And if Heaven works the way I hope it does, there'll be the softest red shag carpet, wood paneling, fresh-picked strawberries, the scent of feed store, double lollies, and two comfortable blue chairs so they can visit in my little corner of Heaven.