Coming home from Boston.

Wow, I cannot believe it has been this long since my last post.  Things happen.  Went on a hockey trip to Boston, in early March, which was fantastic.  My fiancée’s youngest fellow’s team, the Stanley Bulldogs, was the only team there from Canada I think.   They almost made it to the finals.   This was one trip I could not wait to tell my grandfather.  My Grandfather was the type that detested nattering but was genuinely interested if you actually had something to say.  The kids and the parents were all crowded on this bus, the kids sitting in the back. This gave April and I a good chance to get to know the other parents better.  We watched numerous kids’ movies on small overhead TVs numerous times. The Bus Driver was great, and every time I got on the bus I noticed he had a pa system which he did not use much, except when we got to Boston and after we crossed the border.   Before Boston the biggest city I had ever seen was Halifax.  It was a little depressing to see the snow get less and less the further south we drove. Their last game could have gone either way, but even though we were upset that they lost, the families were more than ready to go home.   We brought out lap top to stay in touch with everyone, but the cord was broken and the lap did the whole blue screen of death thing which far beyond my computer resurrection skills.  This happened that Saturday I think.  So this meant no contact with the folks back home, and no updates.  I turned off my cell phone to avoid paying for long distance calls.

                We left quickly after they lost the first game in the morning. A snow storm warning was our welcome back to Canada.  The Storm grew worse as we were nearing the border, and the driving was slow.  After we crossed the border the driver picked up the PA mike to thank everyone for being great passengers and also thank the kids in particular for some great games he watched.   I decided to turn my cell phone back once we were back in the homeland.  My phone went nuts buzzing non-stop, which was very unnerving, the device doesn’t do that much.  The same messages over and over, “Phone home”, “Phone home.”   Then it rang before I had a chance to phone.

                The Driver meanwhile was telling stories and jokes to his passengers, and he seemed quite good at it.  I did not hear a word of what he was saying, but the laughter in the coach was loud, and everyone seemed to be enjoying his stories.

                I grabbed April’s hand as dad told me that my Grampy had a heart attack earlier that day, and he had died.   My body went numb, my heart and body sank,  I held tight to April, and the laughter continued all around me from young and old alike blissfully obviously  oblivious to my sudden distraught condition.  I hung up, and told April what had just happened.  The Drive home became much longer.  My Boston trip would remain an untold story for a grandfather who loved a good story.