I Don’t Remember….

I don’t remember my grandfather ever talking to me. Ever.

At 60, he died of a heart attack. He was in the hospital for a while (week?) before he died. I was 13.

I never went to see him. I sort of felt guilty about that.

All these years later, it dawned on me that there’s a chance I didn’t go because I may have thought:

  • He’ll be coming home as soon as he’s well enough
  • What would we talk about?

Or maybe I just didn’t understand love enough to know how this may have been very important to him.

Or maybe, just maybe, I was following his lead.

By jeff noel

Retired Disney Institute Keynote Speaker and Prolific Blogger. Five daily, differently-themed personal blogs (about life's 5 big choices) on five interconnected sites.


  1. The good thing is you learned from this. If there is a chance to go see someone just to talk, it’s never too late. Or even just sit and listen.

    We’ve seen people at the nursing home where we sing each month leave without warning. They are there one month and not the next. The thing to remember is to keep going. It may be the last time they hear our pitiful singing before they are able to hear a heavenly choir. We’re just the warm up act!

  2. Yes. We can always learn.
    And God’s grace and providence allowed that post to appear randomly (thanks to the WordPress Plugin – Tweet Old Post).
    Just this morning, my Aunt wrote a lovely, empathetic note, supporting my memory, and also shedding light on what a wonderful provider he was. He was an extremely hard worker. I see where I get it. 🙂

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