(no subject)
Well, I don't really know how to word all of this, so I just write as it comes to me. Sorry if it's a little confusing.
Wednesday morning, my mom and dad came home early and together, so I knew something was wrong (it never happens like that unless something's up). My mom sat me down and told me that something very bad had happened, and she started welling up with tears, and I immediately said "Oh God no" because I instinctively knew what happened. Then my dad told me that my grandpa had passed away that morning. I don't know why, but I didn't cry or anything. It's not that I didn't love my grandpa--he's the best man I have ever known in my life. I guess the shock of his sudden death rendered me numb.
Later that day, after arranging for Heather to take care of my dogs, we drove to Wytheville to visit all of my family. When we got there, I saw his Mercury Marauder parked outside. I went up to it, looked inside, and felt the silver trim, and I finally broke down and cried. The car was tied to one of my fondest memories of my grandfather, when I rode with him in the Antique Car Show Parade at Wytheville. My grandpa loved that car so much, it was like his toy.
We went inside and saw everyone there. Of course everyone was sad. My grandma was crying, which is something I've never seen before, and we all gave her a long hug. Well, the first thing we wanted to know was how he died. My cousin Donnie told us about it. What happened was that Donnie woke up in the morning around 7:45. Usually grandpa (and you'd know this if you knew him) is up and fixing a big breakfast for everyone. So Donnie had to go to work, and his food wasn't ready. Donnie then decided to check on Grandpa and see if he was asleep. He walked in, and of course Grandpa was laying in bed. Donnie went to wake him, and he felt how cold he was, so he checked his pulse and felt for breath, and my grandpa was dead. He called an ambulance, and when the paramedics got there, they tried to restart his heart, and they went at it for about 20 minutes, but they stopped once they realized that they couldn't save him. Once they got to the hospital, my uncle Chuck called my dad to tell him that grandpa had passed away.
We spent Wednesday just being with our family, then Thursday we told the funeral home the dates we wanted for the family viewing and funeral. Thursday at 4:50 in the afternoon, the local radio station played their In Memoriam for the people who had died. This whole time, I'd been able to deal with things because even though I had heard he was dead, I hadn't seen him or heard anyone other than family say that he was. I of course started crying when I heard them say "Robert O. Hudson died this Wednesday, leaving his wife, Callie Hudson, two daughters, Pamela Parks and Belinda Matney..." But I was still able to deal with things because I still hadn't seen him yet.
Friday we had a strictly family viewing in the morning. When we got there my Aunt Belinda fell to the floor once we saw that it was indeed grandpa in the casket. There wasn't a single dry eye in the room, including me. It broke my heart because now I knew without a doubt that he was dead. After we collected ourselves a bit, we walked up to the casket. Everyone got close to him and told him things and touched him, except for me. When I first got to him, I couldn't even get close to him or touch him or talk to him or anything. I was so scared, and I didn't want to see him like that. My grandpa was a man full of life, and I just couldn't take seeing him there so stiff and still like that. I am so glad I changed my mind and decided to go back up to him, because if I hadn't, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.
Later that night, we had a public viewing, and all of his friends and family showed up. I'm glad to know that my grandpa had so many people who loved him, because he deserved that. After about two hours, it was time for all of us to leave, and we all said our goodbyes to grandpa, and I gave him a hug and pat on the belly. In case you're wondering, haha, that's what I used to do when I was a kid. He'd be asleep, and I'd sneak up and pop him on the belly, hahaha. I loved that so much as a kid, and I know that even though it annoyed him, he knew I did it cause I loved him.
Then Saturday morning came, and it was time for the funeral at 2:00. We all went to the service, which had a preacher that had done every one of Grandpa's family's funerals. In between each sermon, we had one of three songs played. The first one was a Dolly Parton song, and I don't know if we could've ever gotten a better one. It was a sad song, but it brought a smile to everyone at the same time, because my grandpa always loved Dolly Parton. Haha, he's always said two things: 1.) He wanted to get Dolly Parton's bra to make a tent out of it, and 2.) He wanted to walk barefoot through a field of Dollies, hahaha. The other two songs were off of his favorite CD, which was a country gospel CD. Then it came time for all of us to rise, and I knew this was the last time that I would ever see him, and out of nowhere I started saying "oh Grandpa, oh grandpa, oh grandpa" over and over as I was crying. When I finally got to him, I gave him a huge hug, and I told him that I'd love him forever and that he was the best grandpa I could have ever had. After a few minutes, me and the other Paul Bearers (me, my dad, my cousin Donnie, my uncle Chuck, Jr. Hudson, and Bud Hudson) lined up as the casket was rolled out. We all carried his casket (which by the way was adorned in an American flag since my grandpa was a veteran) to the Herse. Haha, after that, not that I was making fun of grandpa but just trying to make the situation happier, I said "He certainly had the weight of the Lord on his shoulders, huh?"
Then we all drove to the Mauseleum (because Grandpa had always said that he never wanted to be buried in the ground) and we had a military sendoff for Grandpa. At the end, when everyone but the immediate family was gone, my mom got us all to gather around the casket and give him a big hug. My mom didn't want to leave but we eventually got her to come. We were given the American flag that had been on his casket, as well as the bullets that were used, which we are all going to frame, along with the picture of him in the army. And I'm getting that picture as well, because I always remember and loved the war stories he used to tell me.
Thank you, every one of you, for all of the comments. I'm glad to know that you all cared, and Michael, you are certainly right. And Michael, he thought the world of you too, and I'll let my family know that you cared as well. Thank you.