My Grandpa died on Father's Day. Two weeks short of a fabulous bash, a reunion of sorts, that our far-reaching family was throwing him in honor of his 90th birthday. I didn't get to him in time. For that I am sure I will always feel regret. His service was held at a small Hebrew Cemetery in Charlotte, NC.
My father had surgery the day before the service and it is crushing to him and to all of us that he was unable to attend. I stood in his stead and spoke on his behalf and as a final act of mitzvah grudgingly shoveled the dirt on his casket after it was lowered into the ground.
I placed a rock on my Grandma's headstone while I was there - she passed too soon in 1996. I also was able to visit the graves of my great grandma and great grandpa.
So, we did have our family reunion after all, sooner than expected and far sadder an occasion.
I love you Grandpa. I'm sorry I didn't make it to you earlier. Thank you for the dream. I heard you when you said "I'm fine". My hope is that you are with Grandma now and that you're not sad at all.
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