Super, super close to my grandfather. WWII vet, farmer, all around great guy. Supposedly the 2nd longest funeral procession in Brownwood after Gordon Wood.
Anyway, he got pancreatic cancer the tail end of my senior year in HS. He fought and fought but lost the battle in November of my freshman year at TX. I had taken a Greyhound back to Brownwood the weekend in which he was supposed to pass. He continued fighting, so I borrowed my great aunt's '78 Ford pickup and hauled back to Austin for the week. I parked the truck in the Memorial Stadium parking lot - assuming that's where one parks w/o a parking pass. Got to Jester. Found out he'd passed earlier that evening. Went back to the truck. Cried a bit. Headed back to Brownwood that night.
It was hard at the time; however, the most difficult part was in knowing that I was in my own world at the end of his life. I mean, senior year, then freshman year at UT. My lifelong dream. It was incredibly easy (at the time) to kind of put the situation in the back of my mind. Still bothers me to this day that I didn't take extra time just to talk to him about WWII, life, the farm, etc...