Nothing ever quite goes as planned. That's just a given, and it has been a constant since we began this journey called marriage. This has become even more prevalent with pregnancy. And it was again reiterated to me this afternoon when I learned of the passing of my grandfather, my mother's father.
Grandpa Johns was the last surviving of my grandparents. He had long outlived his wife and my dad's parents, he even survived the passing of his oldest son, my uncle Craig, who died this summer. He had had some health issues recently and had gone into the hospital recently for a surgery. As of yet, I have still not been informed on any of the details of his passing, just that he's with us no longer.
And making everything more hectic than it already has been with Annie being dilated to nearly a four (we're literally just waiting for the baby to come already), my attendance at his funeral is now up in the air. I can't leave Annie home alone on the verge of delivering, nor can I leave her at the hospital immediately following the birth of baby Sophia.
But to my comforting, Annie knew exactly what to say. She assured me that he went to heaven to see Sophia first. Exactly why that has a soothing effect on me I'm not sure, maybe it's just the reassurance that life after death and the role of the eternal family that are an integral part of the gospel to which me and my family grasp tightly. Or maybe it's the thought that though I never said my goodbyes, he might send his greetings back with Sophie.
Whatever the case may be, and though this turn in events is not quite what I had planned, this is going to make the arrival of Sophie that much sweeter.
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