He's Gone

I received a phone call at exactly six pm on Sunday night from my mom telling me that my grandfather had died. I cannot really find it in me to shed tears. When I first found out that he was on hospice I cried a lot, but just thinking about all this, I can't really cry. One of his doctors wanted to put him on some medication so that he wouldn't have a stroke and die from that, but he had already been told that his cancer spread, so his response was "I am either going to die from the cancer or die from a stroke." He realized that his fight was over. He realized that God had determined his days were drawing to a close. I was not there in the last few days, but when I talked to my mom I could hear the pain that was going on. I could hear the immense pain and it didn't sound good. 
Harry Zeilenga lived almost 82 years on this earth. It would have been his birthday in about two weeks. He was a solid believer in the truth of Jesus Christ, though, so I know where he is now. He wanted to go to his true home and now he is there. I rejoice!
I got to talk to him one last time a couple of weeks ago right after he got released from the hospital and he sounded like the same old grandpa. He asked me how the weather was and I told him that it was gorgeous out here. Then I told him that I would definitely miss him, but how I rejoiced knowing that he knew where he was going. 
I would call my mom every single morning after this point just to find out how things were going. Some days were alright, but towards the end he grew restless. I could tell yesterday that it was probably going to be the day, just because it sounded so bad on the phone. My brother flew back on Saturday and took care of my grandpa for a few hours just so that my mom could have a little bit of a break. That means that I am the only grandchild not in Chicago, but I will soon be joining the family. 
I always figured that I would be the one conducting this funeral service, but that is not to be. I cannot recall at the moment all the songs that are to be sung at this funeral, but I do recall the song "Take My Hand, Precious Lord" which was penned by a young African American blues pianist after learning of the death of his wife and newborn son. 
For some reason these lyrics just came to mind from the song "There Is a Redeemer": 
When I stand in glory,
I will see his face,
And there Ill serve my king forever,
In that holy place.

Thank you oh my father,
For giving us your son,
And leaving your spirit,
til the work on earth is done.