I'd finally managed to get our often-scattered and rarely-found-together family to commit to a traditional Christmas Eve dinner (held in October so people would be able to come). Now they'll probably all bow out saying that he'll be too sick from the chemo (substitute radiation for chemo and there's the excuse half of them gave when I first brought this up in February when he was diagnosed). And I remember what chemo was like on Grandma; he might not even be well enough to enjoy it or keep the food down. This was quite possibly the last chance for my younger cousins to witness and participate in the beautiful ceremony, and now who knows if it'll happen?
The worst part is that Grandpa wanted to do chemo just to be sure, and the doctor told him the cancer was completely gone, so he shouldn't put himself through it. Given how quickly he relapsed, it's quite possible that it was never really gone, and maybe doing the chemo would have eradicated it completely.
Grandpa walked me down the aisle for my wedding because my father couldn't be bothered to show up. I love him. He did not deserve this. I wish I wasn't so far away right now.