Just call me "Little Bits."

This past weekend, I went to visit my grandpa. I went to visit him because a little while ago, we found out he was dying. He has cancer in his lung, bone marrow, and blood stream. It will most likely metastasize in his brain as well.

This particular grandfather, my mom's father, has been on the outs with most of his five children for about 20 years—my entire life. G-pa likes to have things his way. He wants things thought about and/or preformed his way, and when they're not, or people put up too much of a fight about it, well, it's just not good. He is very critical. The only ones that have been able to stay on his good side (for the most part) are my mother and aunt. My three uncles decided to move on with their lives, and not include him as part of them. One uncle doesn't even want to see him even now.

Anyway, I've not seen G-pa in a few years. Not since his wife died (my "step grandmother"). We used to go once a year around Thanksgiving and my birthday. I even have my own room in his house. Well, I consider it mine. I just stayed in the same one every time. We stopped going to see him a few years ago, but I can't remember why. He has not been able to get to know me as the person I have become. See, it's pretty safe to say G-pa is just not good with kids. Anyway, the look on his face when we were having our discussions....I've never really seen him look like that. I impressed him. My grandfather is not easily impressed, let me tell you. Mostly it was that I surprised him, but still.

He said a few things that were very out of character for him. He was telling me how he "wish[ed] for [me] a soul mate." And he said he was proud of me. That surprised me the most. I even had to take a few seconds to recover before I could respond. He even gave me a nickname: Little Bits. I like it. A lot. It means a lot to me, this sort of term of endearment from him.

I keep thinking about how I'm just getting to know him, and in about 8 weeks or so, he won't be here anymore. Before this weekend I didn't really feel anything about him dying. A few times this weekend, I almost started crying. I wouldn't let myself in front of him or mom, but when I went to bed that night, I didn't want to cry alone. I suppose I've put my "mourning" on hold for a little while longer even though I know how I feel now.

I'm actually going to miss him. I think maybe a lot.