Week 22 Day 2: Rest in peace Great Grandpa Chuck

My grandpa died last night. It was both expected and unexpected. If that makes sense. Probably it doesn't. He had a stroke at his house last weekend and was taken to the hospital where things looked okay at first. He was stable, at least. But then he had another stroke during the night. The first time Gavin and I went to see him he looked really terrible. I did not think he would live long. But by the next time we went to see him he'd rebounded a bit and seemed like he might be able to recover some speech and movement. And then last night we heard from my mom that he wasn't doing well. Several hours later he was dead.

In his obituary it says, "Cherished Grandfather of 10 and great grandfather of one." That one, obviously, is Gavin. I'm really glad that Grandpa got to meet Gavin and that I have this picture to show Gavin when he is older. I don't think I ever met any of my great grandparents with the exception of my mom's Grandma Charbonneau who may have held me when I was a baby as I have a fuzzy memory of a picture that might not actually exist.

Obviously this is a very sad time and to top it off I now need to figure out what to do with a 10-month-old at a funeral. Thank goodness Stacy will be there, too. I reckon she'll be doing a lot of wrangling.

Funerals really aren't good places for kids because dead people are boring. I say that not to be disrespectful. It's just that funerals are largely about reflecting and saying goodbye and comforting others. Not exactly strong suits for a kid in his or her kid-centered world. I remember at my Grandma Lucy's funeral being up near the casket (it was the first dead body I had ever seen. I think I was probably 10 or 11 but can't really remember) with my dad and my brother Brian, who is four years younger than me. My Grandpa Mitch, who has been dead for many years now, came up to the casket, looked at his wife and said as he choked up, "Doesn't she look beautiful?" And Brian, without missing a beat, said, "Yeah, too bad she's dead." He meant no harm. To him it was just a statement of fact. And yeah, he was old enough that he probably should've known better, but this is my family we're talking about.

Gavin had crap naps today. His first nap was too short and tumultuous for both of our own good. And his second nap he woke up less than an hour into it screaming. I went in and soothed him and he fell back asleep, but no more than 20 minutes later he was up and screaming again. Stacy had a staff meeting after school today so I knew she would be home not at her usual 4:15 but more like 6:15 and I feared that Gavin's nap may well be a loss at only 2:45. I didn't know what I was going to do with a crabby baby for three hours. but when I went in to get him it was clear he wasn't done sleeping. I rocked with him a bit and he nestled his head into my shoulder and began sucking his thumb. And because he's heavy and there's only so much rocking I can do while standing up and because I was desperate for him to sleep I sat in the rocking chair in his room (and by "sat" I mean put my butt on the edge of the seat and leaned back so that I could be as prone as possible since there is no headrest) and he fell asleep with his head on my chest. I managed to get another full hour of sleep out of him this way. I dozed a bit myself, in fact. Because he's a pretty sweaty kid and I'm a sweaty lady, the spot where his head met the crook of my arm was literally soaked by the time he woke up. His hair was all matted like he'd just gotten out of the tub. But while he was asleep his head was turned to the side with his face pointed just a little bit up at me and I got to watch his sleeping face, which is so beautiful and something I hardly ever get to see any more. Best part of my day. Best part of my life, even.