On January 11th, I got some news I wasn’t prepared to receive. (Goodbye 365 good days. Farewell. Maybe next year.)
It was nearing the end of my work day when my mother called me. Something was wrong; I could hear it in her voice.
“Grandpa had a heart attack, mamita,” my mother told me.
My heart dropped, and a little panic stirred within me.
“Is he OK?” I asked her.
She didn’t answer, so I asked her again…but a little differently.
“Did he die?” I think I already knew the answer, but I was just holding on to hope that the answer would be “he’s fine,” like it has been in the past.
“Is he dead? Momma, is Grandpa dead?”
I don’t know how many times I asked, each time the panic increasing, and the hope of “he’s fine” slipping away. My coworker and dear friend was at my side by this time. I looked at her and asked if my grandfather had died. She slightly nodded her head and began to comfort me. (My mother had called her to ask her to be with me when I found out. I have such a good mother.)
“Yes, mama. Grandpa died,” my mother finally said.
And a piece of my heart shatters.
January 11…the day my querido abuelito chulito left us to spend eternity with Christ.
I was on a plane the next day headed to Puerto Rico to be with my family. I met up with my sisters and uncle in the Atlanta airport for our connecting flight home. This may sound strange to some, but when I was finally with my sisters, right before racing down the gate to get on the airplane so they wouldn’t shut the door on us (we were running late), I literally felt a wave of calm and strength wash over me. It was the Lord; I know it. The emotional volcano I felt getting ready to erupt, smoothed out. I felt like I could make it. I could be strong. Everything was going to be OK.
I spent a week with my family. It was a good week. A difficult week. An emotional week. But a good week.
I know I will see my grandpa again. I will see him in a place where there are no more tears, pain, sorrow, death… Never again will we be separated. I just have to wait my turn now.
I know he is happy. He is with Christ, walking the streets of gold, admiring the beauty and probably singing a new song. He loved the Lord a lot, and I know he was ready to be with his King.
I miss him like crazy, more than words can express. I cannot wait until we are reunited! We’ll walk around heaven, hand in hand like when we would go out to get the newspaper when I was a little girl. And he’ll sing me a song…
