Grandpa Carl Soderberg

I am pretty sure that my grandpa had no idea that I blog.  He may have not known how broken up I was to watch him suffer and then pass.  I am not even sure if he knew how much I loved him.  I grew up one house away from my grandparents {my mom's parents}.  And as far back as I can recall they were just a quick walk away.  And oh how they loved company {my grandma still does!}.  They used to come to our house for the holidays every year.  As the years passed I grew up; I went away to college; my parents sold their house {during my sophomore year of college}; and then I got married, moved back to NE Minneapolis, and had a baby; but every so often I would make it over to their house to catch up and visit.

My mom and dad temporarily moved in with my grandparents back in the fall.  My mom cared for my grandpa 24/7 the last six months of his life.  She told me that he was the best patient.  He always said thank you and was relatively easy going about everything.  The hospital bed, the needing a wheelchair to get the short distance to the bathroom, the lack of privacy that comes with aging...and he was so grateful to be able to stay home and be cared for by his family.  My mom is an unsung hero with a huge heart.  I can only hope that I reflect her in some small way.  I love you, mom.  {My sister Shannon, who studied to be a nurse, was there the final week of my grandpa's life too.  She gave him round-the-clock care with steady hands and a compassionate heart.  I was in awe watching her.  I love my big sister so much, what a woman!} 

My grandpa was a very animated man when he was on a subject he felt passionate about {politics, religion, wars/violence, the neighborhood}, you know, the usual.  ;-)  But it wasn't until my uncle Eldon was giving my grandpa's eulogy that I realized he had gotten quieter the past year or so.  He talked less, smiled more.  My grandpa had C.O.P.D. and toward the end, he was basically suffocating with each breath he took.  I cannot even imagine.  The last week of his life I went over and saw him every day.  I held his hand.  I sat silently by his bed.  I prayed quietly.  I cried.  He is the first person {I have known for my entire life} to pass away.  It still feels surreal.  Raw.

He always {and I mean always} called me Melissa.  Whenever I called over there I would tell him it was "Missy" *pause* "Oh, Melissa!".  My mom shared with me that someone asked him once why he called me Melissa and he said, "because that's her name!".  :-)  And whenever I told him "I love you, Grandpa" he would always smile and give me a little nod, like "right back at ya kid".

He served in the Marines during WWII.  At his funeral volunteer veterans came and gave him a three-volley salute followed by Taps.  He would have loved that.  He was very proud of his service to our country and too often I take those freedoms that were won {for you, for me} for granted.  I don't think I'll ever be able to hear that played again without tearing up.

I love you, Grandpa.  {Smile, nod}  Until I see you again, rest in peace.

The last picture I took of my Grandpa ~ a week before his death.