Last night as I was walking into rehearsal I paused to make sure my phone volume was turned down. I was standing right outside the rehearsal room, I could hear people getting ready to begin singing. My phone, in my hand, rang.
It was my sister.
I knew what she was going to say.
"Gramps passed away this evening."
"Okay. Thanks for telling me. Will there be a funeral?"
"I think so. I'll let you know."
I took a deep breath, and unexpectedly began crying as I entered the room. Quickly I whispered to Meagan (best stage manager on this planet), "Um, I just found out that my step-grandfather passed away, so . . . I'm going to go take a breath and fill up my water bottle."
"Go!" she said.
As I tried to compose myself the irony of being at a theater for rehearsal was not lost on me; I was also at a theater for rehearsal when I found out my Grandma Elly passed away.
I rejoined the group for a music rehearsal, and I just kept to myself. A few mentioned, most lovingly, that I looked tired. I ended up sharing the news with just a couple of people to explain why I was (trying to privately, in a crowded room) crying.
Meagan did send me a text message, telling me to go home to be with my people, but I stayed for the rest of rehearsal and then cried a little more when I got home last night.
When you lose your grandparents as a child, it's nice when, as an adult, new grandparents come into your life and welcome you as their own. That's what Pat-Pat and Gramps did. Thanks for that, you two. Alabanza.
Here's a post I wrote (and can't read without tearing up) about a card Gramps sent to my then-newborn son (January, 2007).
And here's one with some pictures of Gramps with my then-baby son (July, 2007).