Last night my paternal grandfather passed away.
He got to be the age of 90, and was, more or less, healthy until this Christmas, when cancer started to spread rapidly in him. Monday evening, he was rushed to the hospital, and last night his body gave up.
Currently, I work outside of Stockholm, but was in the city yesterday morning for a meeting. I considered visiting him at the hospital, but stupid lazy me thought it was best to get back to work. I mean, I could see him any other day, right?
I despise myself.
A very rich life
What comforts me a little, though, is that he had an extremely rich life, probably more than any other person I have ever known. He was never driven by the norms laid upon us by society and how we “should” behave. Instead, creativity and passion were the pillars his life rested on, and I respect him extensively for that.
All the stories I heard from/about him really made me dream about how one should live life. He was always happy, keen for new adventures, and he truly enjoyed life to the fullest.
I spoke to my brother last night, and I said that, instead of a funeral, we should rather do something in line with El DÃa de los Muertos, because that would be more fitting. Celebrate that we had the opportunity to share our short lives with such a fantastic person.
I miss you, grandpa. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.