“Oh my God.” By the way her voice cracked at the end, I knew this wasn’t going to be good news. I ran to the kitchen to see if my mom was okay. She was looking at her phone in disbelief. When both my sister and I were there she told us the news. Our grandpa had died just a little bit ago. We had all been expecting this for a while. They had just put him on hospice the day before, but no one expected it to be so soon.

“It happened as it should have,” I heard her saying while my sister and I were wrapping around her. “Dad was with him, and he was comfortable. You know this is how he wanted it, how your dad would want it too.” Knowing someone is going to die soon, and them being dead are two extremely different things. There will be no more days spent at the hospital. No more worrying if he was fighting with the nurses, or being too stubborn with the doctors. No more smoky smell in our grandparents’ house. No more Christmas challenge every year, or classical CDs that he expects us to be able to recite by the next time we see him. No more family room piano recitals that he begged us to do for him. But the biggest question I had was this: did it mean no more happy Dad?

My question wouldn’t be answered for a few days. When my dad walked in that night with my grandma, he gave my sister and me a hug, and went right to the table to start planning. They wasted no time with the funeral. They started calling out of town family, then straight to the funeral director. The viewing would be Friday, and the funeral Saturday.

After all of the basic details were planned, my dad started to write his speech. He would be the only one to speak at my grandpa’s funeral, just like my grandpa wanted it. So my dad spent forever trying to get it to be perfect. And of course, because of how he is, it was nothing less than perfect. I don’t know what was more sad, the speech itself, or seeing my dad have to read it. We were all sitting at the kitchen table and he was reading it to the three of us to see what we thought. About halfway through he started to wipe his eyes, and the rest of us broke down. This was the first time I’ve seen tears come out of his eyes when they weren’t from laughing way too much at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny. My grandpa meant so much to me, but to see what he meant to my dad, made everything a billion times harder.

The funeral went very well. It was a nice day, perfect with all of the leaves just changing color. It was nice to see family that we hadn’t in forever. When my dad got up to give his speech, there was not a dry eye in the place. Many kleenexes were needed all around. There were tons of stories we heard about him growing up, and the times when it was just he and my dad at home. They were all good memories, and everyone was laughing. We were surrounded by people who loved him, and who loved us. It was the perfect way to spend a day like this.

My grandpa was old, and stubborn. He was grumpy and always wanted a cigarette. He hated pictures, but always made you laugh with how he would try to get out of them. He was my only grandpa, and I miss him every day.