My opa died last night.
He and Oma both caught the coronavirus. Only one of them made it.
He’d been having a spell of heart problems. He was on a lot of medication towards the end. I can only hope he went peacefully.
He teased me a lot. But i loved him nonetheless.
He had a model train set in the attic. I like to think i inherited the train nerdery from him, even if he wasn’t my biological grandfather.
I only got to see him every year or so, ever since i moved to the UK.
Well. Except last year.
I never even got to say goodbye.
Poor Oma, too… she’s had to bury two husbands.
His funeral will be streamed on Tuesday. I don’t know if i can bear to go. Part of me knows it’s not the same as a real funeral. Part of me knows i can’t bear to see everyone else’s sadness. But part me knows i’ll regret it in the future if i don’t.
I miss him a lot.