Just about everyone who reads this blog knows that my grandpa passed away earlier this year. He was a wonderful and loving and funny man who would do anything for his family.

The night I found out that he died, Brian and I were staying with my sister in Chicago. Maria and I had stayed up late talking about our Uncle. Uncle G. had been diagnosed with cancer and during the prep for his treatment the doctors had discovered an aortic aneurysm. This was all very scary to me. Cancer-scary. Holes in parts of you where there should be no holes-scary. The combination-very scary.

I went to bed worried about my uncle, and hoping that things would be alright. A few minutes later, my sister came into her guest room to tell me that we had lost Grandpa. We hugged, and cried. The first thing she said was "He loved us so much." Which is true in the most profound way.

Maybe it is just a coincidence in my brain--we were just talking about George when we got the news about Grandpa--but I keep thinking that the Universe gave Keith Hansen a choice. His son was sick, and it was time for someone to go. But Grandpa got to decide who it would be--one of them would go and the other one would be okay. And for Grandpa, that would have been a silly question. Part of me will always believe that he died so that George would be okay.

Uncle George had surgery for his aneurysm last week and it all went well. I just got my first email from him to say that he’s recovering just fine and that he’s feeling restless already. I think that some part of my grandparents are out there somewhere--and they are smiling.