I got a call from my dad telling me my grandfather was in the hospital up north and was not doing well. They were going to cut off his leg to try to save him, but it did not look hopeful. They didn't want me to come see him, and I couldn't talk to him so I sadly expected a call soon informing me that it was over.
I got a call, but it was my grandfather! He sounded chipper and upbeat, and I got to tell him my expected son was going to be named _____ (the same as him, my father, and me.) He said "well, that's a good name" and then he wanted directions to my house. I'm just realizing as I'm writing this that as I was giving him directions I was visualizing the trip from above as if flying over. I remember asking if he was going to visit, and he said if he got the chance he would come by. After the call I felt relieved that he was doing better and was even making plans to travel.
Then I got the call from my dad telling me my grandfather had passed. I told him we had just talked and that he had sounded so much better, but he said that happens sometimes right before someone passes. I was very sad, but found some comfort in the fact that I was able to tell him about naming my expected son.
At the wake I was speaking about the day he passed, and how he had called me that afternoon and sounded so much better, but someone pulled me aside and told me to stop talking about it, and that my grandfather had actually passed in the morning.
He loved to break the rules. I sure miss him.